An Ye Harm None
by frokenalv
Summary: When Lydia is attacked at the Winter Formal, Cassandra wakes up screaming 2,000 miles away. She risks everything to uncover the many mysteries of Beacon Hills, a place her family has shunned for forty years, and to keep her strawberry-blond cousin safe and…sane. With a reptilian monster running about and the Sheriff's son breathing down her neck, she's in for a real challenge.
1. Scream

_Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to Teen Wolf nor its characters. This piece of fiction is created purely out of love for the show and no profit will be made. _

**An Ye Harm None**

**Chapter 1 – Scream**

"_LYDIA!_"

The scream pierced the still night air, waking up every resident of the manor. My eyes tore open as I redrew my breath, screaming out her name again before waking up fully. "_LYDIAAA!"_

Aunt Meriope crashed through my bedroom door, hitting the light switch in her wake. Her pale horsey face wrinkled in concern. "What on earth – Cassie, are you okay?"

My throat made a howling sound as I gasped for air, twisting in my bed sheets. I tried blinking my eyes rapidly, ridding myself of any residual nightmare, and felt my covers soaked in sweat.

"Cassandra, what happened – is everything – did you have a nightmare?" Aunt Persephone appeared in the doorway with her hair in curlers and clutching her robe closed across her chest. I struggled to breathe, and only stared at them with wide eyes.

Aunt Meriope lowered herself gently to sit on my bed, making soothing noises and checking my temperature by laying her thin hand on my forehead. "Shh, shh, it's okay. Just a bad dream, baby, just a bad-"

"No," I mumbled, sitting up and swatting her hand away. "No, no. Not a dream, it happened. " The remainder of my screaming consisted of a throbbing ache in my temples, which I massaged to get my thinking straight. "It happened, Aunt Meriope. Lydia's hurt, she's _dying_."

I hadn't sooner said the word, than I realized the truth of it. It was probably a decade since I last saw her, but we had always had a strong connection – same birthdate and everything – and of course I would be reminded of her when she _died_. Our family had a special (and sick) connection to death, that's for sure.

"Your cousin, Lydia…_Martin_?" Aunt Meriope said the surname as it left a bad taste in her mouth. By now, several more shapes became apparent outside my bedroom door, and the hallways fluttered with bits of conversations from my many housemates, mostly cousins and aunts. The more senior women demanded access to my room, while my younger cousins cried to know if I was all right, unharmed, alive even.

The sharp tone of my Grandaunt Hester ordered the whole lot back to bed. She stepped into my bedroom herself and closed the door behind her. While Aunt Meriope and Aunt Persephone were both dressed in nightgowns and robes, Grandaunt Hester was still clad in her ankle-length black gown with sleeves reaching her fingers. Nearing her 50s, she did nothing to appear younger and her graying hair stayed put in a tight bun that I had never seen unraveled.

"Cassandra," her cool voice calmed the mood considerably, even steadying my breaths. She was not the head of house for nothing.

"Grandaunt Hester," I whispered in respect, lowering my head slightly. She rarely concerned herself with the younger girls in the household, and I could count the number of times she addressed me directly on one hand.

"What did you see, Cassie?" Persephone's knuckles were white from clutching her robe tightly, and her fluttering voice reminded me of a nervous bird. "Was it a vision?"

I nodded, struggling to make sense of it all. "It's Lydia, Grandaunt Hester. My cousin, Natalie's daughter."

Our family tree is twisted and complicated, and while I called her my Grandaunt, it could very well be she was even a more distant relative than that. I couldn't even guess how _she_ was related to Lydia, but only knew that she was.

"Natalie and Lorraine left a long time ago," Grandaunt Hester said, her face set in an impassive expression. "They cut their ties, and are no longer our concern."

"But Ly-"

"Your Aunt Natalie made it very clear that we are no longer welcome in their lives, lest of all her daughter's," Grandaunt Hester interrupted me. Aunt Meriope and Aunt Persephone darted their gaze from me to Grandaunt Hester and back again. I don't think Natalie was their sister, or even if Aunt Meriope and Aunt Persephone were sisters, but Natalie was my mother's sister and Lydia my real cousin.

"She's hurt," I said, working to get out of the covers to stand up. "She needs help. Our help."

"Not our concern," Grandaunt Hester repeated. No matter how much I begged, shouted or tried to reason with her during the next hour did she change her mind.

"But she's _family_!" I cried out as they were leaving. "I need to go see her, I can help her!"

"You will do _no _such thing," Grandaunt Hester hissed, turning around to stand in front of me again.

"You can't stop me," I warned, matching her stance.

"If you leave this house, Cassandra Brigitta Blair, you can consider yourself disowned from this family. You will not be welcome back."

The words hit me like a punch in the face. "You can't do that," I croaked, feeling tears from pure disbelief well up in my eyes. But the ugly truth was that she could, she was the matriarch, the Head of the Council as well as the house. "Please, Grandaunt Hester, I can save her."

"If Natalie Martin wanted us to _save_ her daughter, don't you think she would have called by now?"

"Grandmother Blair-"

"Is dead," Grandaunt Hester finished for me and strode out of the room. The door clicked gently behind her.

Grandmother Blair, grandmother of Natalie and my mom, used to be the matriarch, she used to run this school as well. But she died, 102 years of age, just last summer. She would have sent someone; she would have let me go. But my sixteen-year-old self had nothing to stand up with against Grandaunt Hester, her words were final.

I hit the roads not an hour later, preparing to cross the country in my beat-up Honda Accord - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to Beacon Hills, California. Lydia deserved my help, disowned or not.

* * *

><p>The forty-hour drive left me ample time to make calls and prepare for my visit. I tried calling my sister first, but she was somewhere in Europe on a job and I hit voicemail.<p>

"Hey, it's me," I said, speaking into the hands-free, both hands on the wheel. "Um, I may have pissed off Grandaunt Hester for good this time. I…I had a – Lydia's hurt real bad, I think she's dying. So I'm driving to Beacon Hills to see her, I know that's what Mom would have wanted. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know where I'm going, I'll try to call Aunt Belinda afterwards to hear about the House. I _may_ need to sign some stuff in your name, being underage and all, but I'll try not to mess up too much. Call me back when you can, okay? Hope you're having fun in Paris or Rome or wherever you're at right now. Please don't be mad at me. Okay, bye."

I clicked the mic-piece, and breathed slowly through my mouth. She was going to kill me.

My next call was to the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital and I made a short prayer that they didn't redirect me to the morgue.

"Beacon Hills Memorial, how may I help you?" A woman's voice came through.

"Hi, um…I'm calling about a patient," I hated grown-up phone calls, "A girl, sixteen, strawberry blonde."

"I'm sorry, I can't release any information witho-"

"Her name's Lydia Martin, I'm her cousin," I said hastily, swallowing several times to rid myself of a growing lump. Please let her still be alive.

"I'm sorry, hospital policy ens-"

"Please, I can't get hold of her mom and I just need to – is she – I mean, I need to know if she's okay." My voice cracked and the woman sighed.

"Hang on, I'll see if I can find Mr. Martin," she said and I nodded, even though she couldn't see it. There was a _click_ from the receiver being put down, and for a while I only heard my heartbeat thudding.

"Hello?" A man this time.

"Hi, is this Lydia's dad? It's Cassie, Cassandra, Lydia's cousin," I tripped over my words trying to explain who I was. I don't think my aunt Natalie ever told him too much about her family or why they left it. I just hope he would remember me; it'd been almost ten years.

"Cassie? Cassie Blair?" he asked, sounding confused. "How did you even – did Natalie call you?"

"Yeah, she did," I lied. "But she didn't say much. How is she? Lydia, I mean."

The phone crackled as he exhaled harshly. "Stable." Now I heard the weariness in his tone. "They – the doctors – they can't explain it, she keeps going into shock, some sort of allergic reaction. They're keeping her unconscious for now, but…"

He rambled on, and I tried to follow the thread of the conversation. Someone or something attacked her at the Winter Formal, the police claimed animal attack. Her stomach wound healed slowly, but she was reacting to it in a way the doctors have never seen before.

I tried to think straight, listen to him and drive safely at the same time. Animal attack didn't exactly match my suspicions of supernatural activity, but death is death I suppose. We Blairs are drawn to it, like slightly morbid moths to a flame.

"Is aunt – is Lydia's mom there?" I asked finally, weighing the pro and cons of letting her know I was on my way.

"N-no, no. She's on a business trip, she's on her way back now," he mumbled. "Listen, I'll tell her you called when she wakes up, I'll make her call back. I need to go – the police is – bye, Cassie."

The call ended. So she's still alive, that's something, even though the 'allergic reactions' sounded off to me. It didn't exactly sound like a bee sting if you're rushed to intensive care to receive blood transfusion.

I drove for six hours straight before my first stop at a gas station. I brushed my teeth, used the bathroom and bought breakfast, water and energy drinks before driving on. I was still in Ohio, and didn't plan to stop again before Nebraska. Around noon, I tried calling my Aunt Belinda, a nervous woman nearing her 70s, the last person from my family that lived in Beacon Hills permanently – and that was at least forty years ago.

"Belinda Blair speaking." Her crisp British accent hadn't left her yet, even though she'd moved to the US in her teens. Technically, she wasn't my aunt, but my grandmother's cousin, but as I tried to explain earlier, our family tree was complicated.

"Hi, Aunt Belinda, it's Cassie."

"Cassie? Cassandra? Lilith's daughter?"

"Yup, that's me," I mumbled, fiddling with the cord.

"I haven't heard from you in years," she said and I could hear her tinkering about in the background. "Not since your mother's funeral, I think. Is everything fine? Your sister, she's still…"

"She's fine. Um, but…" I didn't think bringing Lydia up would do me any favors; my family held grudges like sheep held ticks. "Listen, I'm calling about the old house we used to have in California."

The other end stayed silent for a while. "You mean up at the Beacon?"

"Beacon Hills, yeah. We still own it, right? The family, I mean."

"We do, but…"

"Please, Aunt Belinda, I wouldn't be asking this if it wasn't really important. I need to borrow the house for a while, I'm finishing the school year there."

A crash sounded from her end, as if she'd dropped a cup on the floor. "_What_? Why in mother's name would – did that girl Hester agree to this?" She sounded outraged.

_That girl Hester…_

"Yes," I said without hesitation, but biting my lip as she couldn't see it. "Something about me maturing and being responsible and all that…"

"Is she mad? I know being the matriarch means innovation and fresh ideas, but - is she absolutely _mad_?"

I didn't get her shock of going to Beacon Hills. I mean, I knew no one had lived permanently at the house for decades – my mom borrowed it when we visited her sister a few weeks a year, but that was about it. And now that I thought about it, Grandmother Blair had been a bit reluctant about that too.

"Surely, you won't be there on your own?" Her concerned voice echoed through my thoughts a few times, before I crossed my fingers for safety.

"Noooo, no! Of course not, I'll have Sabrina there with me," I referred to my older sister, the responsible and successful one, currently parading around in Europe. That calmed Aunt Belinda down a bit.

"Oh, well, if you have her there…I still don't think it's a good idea, but I'll never refuse my favorite niece anything." Not sure if she meant my sister or me. "I'll call the bank now, let them know you're to be given the key and all."

We settled the practical details, all the while with me calming her down with promises of my sister meeting me in Sacramento by plane and that of course I wouldn't go there on my own. Eventually she prattled on about her cats and flowers and it took me another hour to make her hang up.

I reached Lincoln, Nebraska and settled down in the backseat with my flashlight tucked into my arms, getting a few hours of much needed sleep. I was back on the road before sundown, speeding through the green fields on I-80. Another gas station, another toilet break and a new batch of energy drinks before I drove off. I couldn't help but think that every minute I wasted on breaks was a minute Lydia might not have, so I ignored any lack of sleep and went on all night. Morning came, and I spent the day admiring the nature of Wyoming as I zoomed past.

I called the high school in Beacon Hills, impersonating my Aunt Isadora, who technically was my guardian until I turned 18. It should have been Sabrina, but I guessed she needed her own life too. I tried to explain my homeschooling to the ever-growing skeptical principal, but in the end we agreed that I would have to take a few standardized tests to measure my academic level, but of course I was welcome to their community and I would be allowed to start after winter break, and what second language did I take and blah blah blah.

Mr. Martin had informed the hospital of my identity, because when I called the hospital again, they didn't hesitate to tell me that she was on her way to recovery and they expected her to wake up during the next few days.

Driving in the darkness, I tried not to think about the uneasy lump of ice sitting in my stomach. It wasn't that Lydia was hurt or that she could have died; it was just a really strong feeling of suspicion regarding the circumstances. Our family wasn't normal, and even though Aunt Natalie thought cutting all ties with it would help them lead a normal life, it didn't work that way. I'm not sure how I knew, but Lydia needed my help.

"I'm coming, Lyds," I mumbled into the car, my words lost to the soft-sung country melody from the radio.

* * *

><p>Hospitals produced mixed feelings in me. On one hand it was a place for birth and recovery, on the other hand it reeked of death and pain and sorrow, pushing down on me from all sides.<p>

I must have looked like a mess, because the nurse stationed at the desk started to ask me questions about my health before I could state that I was visiting my cousin. She gave me the directions to the intensive care unit.

My heart pounded so hard it felt weird other people didn't hear. This was it. I was here. Going to see Lydia. For the first time in ten years.

"Oh boy," I breathed as I stopped by a corner to steady myself against the wall. For the first time in roughly forty-five hours I started to question if I had made the right decision. I hadn't even talked to Lydia since we were _seven_, for heaven's sake. "Get it together, Cass. Come on."

I smacked right into a helium balloon. "The hell!" I pushed irritably at the offending 'Get well!' message, before becoming aware of kissing noises down at knee-level. A boy around my age lay spread over three chairs with wooden armrests, smacking the air with his lips.

"Oookay?" I mumbled, stepping around his head and keeping the balloon at arm-distance. My school was all-girls, so maybe this kind of behavior was normal for teenage boys?

"Mmm, you're dirty," he moaned to nobody and I darted past him just as a door opened in front of me.

"Cassie?" the man burst out, giving me an incredulous look.

"Ehm…Mr. Martin?" I guessed, taking in his sandy-colored hair and general tired look.

"Oh my god, look at you," he mumbled, taking me into an awkward hug. "You didn't tell me you were coming here."

"No, I – you know, I was in the neighborhood," I breathed, stuffing my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. I wasn't used being around people not related to me.

"Didn't you live in Pennsylvania?" he asked, but noticed how I tried to look past him through the door of the room that should have held my Lydia. "Oh, she's taking a shower right now."

I let out a long breath. _Oh thank you, mother of everything. She's awake. Alive. Thank you. _

"On her own?" I gave him a look of disbelief; she couldn't have been awake more than a day at most. I had called just twelve hours ago. _She's alive, she's alive, she's alive…_

"I offered help, but…" He didn't elaborate. "Man, I'm sure she'll be thrilled to see you. Hey, I'm going to get some coffee from the cafeteria, do you – can I get you anything?"

"Coffee would be amazing," I admitted, nodding enthusiastically. I felt like death right now, and coffee could remedy some of that. He made a noise of consent, before asking a dark-haired nurse if the boy sleeping on the chair had been there all night.

"He's been here all weekend," she said, walking away with a clipboard. Mr. Martin went to get the coffee, and I studied the boy with the buzz-cut hair and balloon cord wrapped around his hand. Her boyfriend?

Some part of me reveled in the fact that my cousin even had a boyfriend – I pretty much hadn't talked to a boy my age unless he sat in the register of the supermarket, and even then I managed to make a complete fool of myself.

The boy started to move about, waking up probably, and I momentarily panicked what to do with myself. I looked desperately for Mr. Martin or even Aunt Natalie, as he struggled with the balloon when sitting up.

"Uhhh…" He noticed me for the first time, and I hastily put my arms around myself in defense. He pushed himself into a normal sitting position and dragged a hand across his face. "Hi?"

"Mhm," I mumbled, not able to even open my mouth completely. I pushed my slightly curly locks behind my ears several times, cursing its distressed state. I tried to avert my gaze, looking at the ceiling, at the hallway, everywhere but the cute boy trying to catch my eyes.

"Sorry, do I – I've seen you somewhere," he said, pointing at me with his balloon hand. "Do we have Spanish together?"

_What?_ I've never seen him before in my life; that I'm sure of. How could he possibly think he had – oh, wait. Maybe I reminded him of Lydia, his wounded girlfriend that was in the showers right now and your cousin that you should not be betraying by thinking of her boyfriend as _cute_.

"It's Spanish, right? You have Mrs Garcia too?" He nodded pleased with himself, standing up and straightening out his clothes. "You're a friend of Lydia's?" Something about his tone indicated surprise. He started to walk towards me, but stopped when I scrambled backwards.

"Uhh, it's just that I have a pretty good recollection of her clique – I mean there's Allison, Jennifer, Lavender and that one blond girl I never remember the name of – I just don't think I've seen you with her before." The boy scratched his neck, tilting his head to look at me.

_Stop looking at me; stop looking at me, oh mother what do I-_

"I'm Stiles, by the way. I play for the Beacon Hills Lacrosse team, well, I don't _actually _play, but I'm _on_ the team," he held his non-ballooned hand to his flat abdomen when introducing himself. "I made first line, buuut…there were complications."

What the hell was lacrosse? Why was he still talking? Why couldn't Lydia just finish her shower already?

His eyebrow rose after a few seconds. Why? Why did his eyebrow raise?

"Oh!" I exclaimed, he jumped slightly at the sound. "Oh! You want to know my name?"

"Eeehm, yes?" he ventured, and I cursed myself for acting so weird. I had no people skills. None. Zilch. Nada.

"Imladcus," I stuttered and made a grimace, preparing to start over.

"You're Im-la-"

"No, no. I'm Lydia's cousin." I gave him a strained smile when he suddenly beamed.

"Hi there, Lydia's cousin! I didn't know I had Spanish with Lydia's cousin. I think that would be something I would know, but-"

"We don't have Spanish together, I don't go to Beacon Hills. Well, I do, but I didn't. I mean, I'll probably take French starting tomorrow, I transferred and…"

I was making such a fool out of myself and my cheeks were burning. He still smiled brightly though.

"I didn't even know Lydia _had_ a cousin," he mumbled to himself.

"_I_ didn't know Lydia had a boyfriend," I said, regretting the words the instant they were uttered.

"Well, I…" He scratched his scalp forcibly again. "Sadly, I'm not her boyfriend. Right now, no one is. I'm just a very...concerned friend."

My feelings were torn between feeling suspicious towards this not-boyfriend that spent the entire weekend waiting for my cousin to wake up, and feeling ecstatic that this very cute boy was not my cousin's boyfriend. No, wait; he could still be someone's boyfriend.

Ignoring my excessively loud heartbeat, I gave him a slightly less awkward smile. "I'm Cassandra."

A silence followed, where I tried hard to fight my blush and he started making gestures towards the vending machine, indicating that he was just going to go over there and get away from the weird redheaded girl claiming to be Lydia's cousin.

A scream pierced through the silence though, and my insides turn to ice.

_Lydia!_

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

So,what do you think? Thank you so much for reading! This is an idea that's been spinning around my head since season one, and further down the road you'll probably recognize elements about Cassie's family inspired by other pieces of work.

I appreciate reviews, positive or negative or just simply a "Read your story, good job!". So please review, and welcome back for the next chapter!


	2. Graveyards

_Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to Teen Wolf nor its characters. This piece of fiction is created purely out of love for the show and no profit will be made._

**An Ye Harm None**

**Chapter 2 – Graveyards**

"I'm sorry, who are you again?" The Sheriff asked me, looking like he'd been through hell and back. I stared out the open window, not really fathoming that she'd ran off, naked. Mr. Martin called the police right away, and then his ex-wife. The boy and I both dashed into the bathroom at the same time as the nurse and Lydia's father. The shower still ran, but there wasn't a sign of Lydia. The uneasy feeling from before returned tenfold, and I struggled to concentrate on the Sheriff's voice.

"This is Cassie, she's Lydia's cousin on her mother's side," Mr. Martin filled in for me, and I gave the Sheriff a blank look. He shared a slight resemblance to the boy, who now hovered a bit in the background.

"Cassie, would you have any idea of where your cousin would go? Any hangouts or-"

"I haven't seen her in ten years," I admitted, biting my fingernails as I thought. "I just came because I heard she was hurt."

The Sheriff chose not to comment on that, but instead went to get a proper description of her.

"Naked? As in…_nude_?" drifted from the conversation as they walked out of the room, and I leaned out the window to breathe the chilly night air. Completely exposed to this cold? Oh, Lydia.

* * *

><p>The dewy grass squelched under my boots as I trudged on, beaming my flashlight in different directions. Occasionally the light landed on a tombstone. Did I have any idea of where Lydia would go? Not really, but…Her last name may be Martin now, but she was still a Blair and we had a natural tendency to hover towards graveyards. Where else would a naked teenage girl wander?<p>

My car was parked down the street, and I had put an extra jacket on in case I found her and she needed it more than me. In my backpack I had a few water bottles, a pair of extra shoes and even some underwear – you know, just in case.

Graveyards were easier for me than hospitals. Here I knew what to expect, knew how to ignore it. No pain here, just acceptance. In the distance a small excavator started on a fresh patch of land and I weighed the trepidation of talking to a stranger against possibly getting a lead on Lydia. I wanted to help the police find her, but how could I explain that yeah, Lydia might possibly have wandered of into the night to find the cemetery because that's what we Blairs do? Her scream from earlier had cut through every nerve in my body, like it called out to _me_ to find her.

My stomach sank when I realized the gravedigger was yet another boy my age, and he furrowed his brows when noticing my flashlight and me. Oh no, this one was even_ cuter_! Even with his painful-looking black eye. A mop of curly hair in an undistinguishable color gave him a boyish look that a very strong jaw contradicted. He hopped out of the excavator, his face unreadable.

"Hey. You lost?" he asked softly, reaching back to scratch his neck. Boys did that a lot, I noticed. He didn't meet my eyes. Time to focus on Lydia.

"No, not me," I said and realized I pointed the flashlight right in his face as he went to cover it with his arm. I redirected the beam. "Sorry. I'm looking for someone. A sixteen year old girl, light red hair, pale skin."

I didn't add 'totally naked' in her description, because no matter how cute he could still turn out to be some sort of creep. His mouth twisted in an apologetic expression.

"Sorry, I haven't seen anyone else but you tonight," he mumbled. He looked up briefly to give me a crooked half-smile. "You do match the description though."

Of course I did. Everyone on my side of the family matched that description, apart from the age. My gut filled with bitter disappointment – I hoped she would be out here.

"You haven't seen or heard anything out of the norm?" Look at me, using slang and everything. My concern for Lydia overwhelmed any nervousness in talking to this tall, muscular, handsome bo – okay, now I'm nervous again.

"No, sorry. Everything's dead quiet," he said and flinched. "Sorry, bad joke."

Every other sentence here involved the word 'sorry' I noticed. I need to get a move on, how do I end this conversation? Can I just walk off and say 'bye'?

"Okay, um…yeah, I left my car up the street, that's totally legal right?" I said, flashing my light towards the indicated direction. Inside I cursed myself for the lamest topic change in the book. Besides I parked at a-

"It's a parking lot, so..." He trailed off, looking very intently at his feet. Did he try to make the black eye less noticeable? It looked so fresh. On the other hand, it made his bright blue eyes stand out even more. _No, bad Cassie, no thinking about gorgeous eyes when your cousin may lose a limb to exposure._

"Okay, thanks anyway," I said, swallowing any awkwardness. I continued my trek towards the woods, wondering if the police dogs had picked up her scent yet.

"I hope you find her," Blue Eyes called to my back. "Your friend I mean."

I turned around with a small smile, ignoring the escalation in my heart rate. "Cousin, actually. Thanks."

He nodded and a few minutes later the excavator started up again. He was right, the graveyard revealed nothing and I eyed the forest with mistrust before I managed to swallow my fear and plunged between the tall oak trees. I went on pure instinct now, but even though the terrain proved easy enough, the drive across country had left me running on fumes and after a very brief second I remembered that whatever bit Lydia was still out there.

I'd never been scared of animals, before now.

"Lydia?" I called out to the dark woods, not hearing much beyond the twittering of night birds. Everyone thought bird calls were so pretty, if only people knew they were just desperate calls to warn of attacks or trying to get laid, sometimes both at the same time. "Lydia!"

Once during the night I thought I heard a twig snap, but no matter where I shone my flashlight, nothing out of the ordinary revealed itself. Another time I thought a growl came to my left, but when I stopped to listen it disappeared. The growl hadn't meant anything, just a warning, but what kind of animal? Californian wildlife was not my forte. Coyote, maybe?

"Lydia!"

Every few minutes I called out, not caring if I attracted potential predators as long as Lydia might hear me. Besides, any humanoid predators were more likely to go after my naked cousin rather than myself armed with a flashlight. I suppose that wasn't very fair against Lydia, but self-preservation ran strong in my genes.

The stars twinkled between the foliage, discernable enough so I could use them for direction. I kept a steady west, the direction of healing, and the direct route cutting deeper into the woods.

I found a stream to refill my water bottle, around four in the morning, and sat down in the moss to rest my feet for a bit. My breath fogged in the air – it was too cold outside for her to be wandering about with no clothes on. It was almost too cold for me to be outside, and I had stocked up on the layers. Okay, two minutes and I would get back up to continue my search. Around me, the night slithered away with insects buzzing and the occasional _hoot_ from an owl. It was tempting to use them to find Lydia, but right now I had trouble enough staying awake, let alone dabble with the most complicated branch of witchcraft I knew of. _I may never even learn the skill properly_. The thought hit me like a knife in the guts. I'd only started this fall, and I just turned my back on any further teaching my family could offer.

But if I hadn't, who would have been here for Lydia? Not that it mattered yet; I couldn't even find her. I would though, I knew it – we had a connection, I'd find her. I just needed to get up and look for her. Soon enough my flashlight would find her red hair and large green eyes and she'd hug me and maybe cry a bit before I took her back to the hospital.

My own eyes slid shut as I slumped against the tree trunk. Sleep overcame me.

* * *

><p>"<em>LYDIA!" <em>

I bolted awake, holding onto the flashlight like a lifeline. Someone had screamed her name. Did I do that? Or just dream it all together? I struggled to keep my eyes open because of the harsh light. Sunrise – no, wait – probably around seven in the morning by now. Oh, mother of all. I'd slept through the rest of the night.

"_Stupid, stupid," _I muttered to myself, brushing leaves from my clothes. There was a meeting with the stupid school at eight and I needed to retrace my steps to find my Honda again. And to check with the police, see if they found Lydia. They probably hadn't, I could feel it. I felt damn useless, that's for sure. I checked my cell phone, but either the battery died or the cold temperature killed it because the screen was blank. No help there then.

At least getting back to the graveyard would be easy enough. Even if I strayed off course during the night, it looked like a rhino had trampled through the leaves and made a clear path back. I fought the after-effects of not enough sleep and a night leaning awkwardly against a tree, stretching and stumbling my way back. I tried to keep an eye on the bushes, in case Lydia cowered beneath them or something, but with the noise I made fighting through the undergrowth she would have heard me a mile away.

Pushing through the branches to stagger onto the cut grass between tombstones, my heart stopped at the sight of police cars. They were still too far away, but I could discern several policemen swarming around an open grave, closed in by police tape, and dogs sniffing the ground intently. Had my instincts been right? Did Lydia fluctuate to the graveyard after all?

"The hell?" I mumbled, shielding my eyes from the harsh daylight to see what was going on. That was the Sheriff from last night and he was talking to…my stomach sank. He was talking to a man and the boy I met. Oh man, are you kidding me? Did I have a conversation with Lydia's kidnapper and just take his word that he hadn't seen her?

I adjusted the backpack hanging over my right shoulder, walking carefully a few feet from the tree line. I needed to get closer, hear what happened. A mysterious disappearance and an open grave had the name Blair written all over it, this could not be a coincidence. I got close enough to hear murmurs of conversation, including a short-lived laugh from the man I presumed to be the gravedigger's father. Oh no, crap! My eyes widened in a flash when I met the boy's curious gaze and I contemplated throwing myself behind the tombstone before – too late, the Sheriff turned around and spotted me giving my impression of a deer caught in headlights.

"You got to be kidding me, hang on just a second," he exclaimed before stomping my direction. "Cassie! _Hey!"_

Before I even thought about making a run for it, he reached me and put his hand on my shoulder with a stern face. I probably looked freaked out, because his expression softened a fraction.

"It's Cassie, right?" he asked, nodding his head towards me. His hands drifted to his belt, standard policeman-stance. I nodded rapidly. "Looking for your cousin?"

Again, I only nodded, both hands wrapped around the strap of my backpack. He took in my scruffy appearance and reached out to pick a leaf out of my rust-colored locks. The Sheriff sighed again, like he was expecting it, holding the leaf out to inspect it.

"You been out here all night?" he asked and dropped the leaf to the ground.

I coughed, finding my voice. "_Noo_, nooo….no, I was…just taking a morning walk, that's all," I tried, but his raised eyebrow made me halter. I kicked my foot in the dirt a few times, before giving up. I mumbled, "Yes."

"You are aware that not only have we not caught whoever or whatever attacked Lydia, but the Beacon Hills preserve is off limits after dark? Do you know how much danger you were in?" His tone left no room for argument. "Look, I know you're worried about your cousin, about Lydia, I get it. But I don't think it'll help anyone if you get yourself lost or hurt looking for her, all right?"

When I failed to provide an answer, he pressed on. "_All right_?"

"Yeah, all right," I mumbled, finally looking up to meet his face. "Um…are there any leads yet?"

His apologetic expression crushed any hope I had. "Sorry, sweetheart, no. Our K-9 unit led us here, but there's nothing to indicate Lydia ever came this way. Sorry."

I nodded, my gaze fixed on the open grave next to the couple the Sheriff had been talking to when I stumbled by. "And- and that?"

"Grave robbery, completely unrelated by the looks-"

"That your missing girl, Sheriff? Can my son go on to school now?" The harsh voice of the man next to Blue Eyes sounded over the short distance between us, his whole stance indicated that he was tired of waiting. My gaze fluttered between him, the grave and the gravedigger boy from last night; the latter met my eyes briefly, before we both looked away. Believe me, daylight did nothing to diminish from his looks.

School. Shoot, that's where I'm supposed to be.

"Unfortunately, no, Mr. Lahey." The Sheriff 's calm voice was the opposite of Mr. Lahey's. He gestured towards the younger boy, who had started to turn and leave. "Hang on there, Isaac, I just got a few more questions."

After a few seconds of pointed silence, I realized the entire trio looked at me expectantly. Oh, right. I was probably not privy to police investigations.

"Don't you have school, Cassie?" the Sheriff asked gently, and I nodded so fast it'd give me whiplash if I kept it up and powerwalked away, barely catching the statement that the grave robber had taken the dead woman's liver.

Morbid, but not unheard of. To be honest, I expected it a bit more gruesome – maybe her heart, her brain or even her reproductive organs. Ancient civilizations, including the Romans, used the liver to predict the future though, so I couldn't rule out paranormal interference just yet.

I found a frozen stiff cereal bar in the car and munched it down while driving after GPS to find Beacon Hills High School. Even the name made my nerves tremble. Not only had I been homeschooled, but I hadn't attended a mixed-gender school since second grade. Transitioning to a full-fledged high school, with lockers and jocks and a cafeteria just like I'd seen on films, could not be the gentlest switch. I had no idea what to expect, except maybe some bitchy Queen Bee harassing the new girl and chess club nerds with oversized braces trying to recruit me.

I parked the car in the first available spot. By now the sun was out, and the entire parking lot filled up with teenagers in all shapes and sizes. I glanced at my recently charged cell phone – there was still time to freshen up before my meeting with the principal. I gave up all attempts to smooth down my hair, and settled to putting it in a high ponytail with help from the rear-view mirror. A flock of teenage boys drifted past, laughing and joking, some sort of net-stick in their backpacks and I ducked down in my seat lest they saw me.

"Be still my heart," I mumbled, creeping up above the car window to look at their retreating backs. Muscular backs. Did all teenage boys look like they stepped out of a fashion magazine? Because if that was the case, I'd have a brain aneurysm after my first day here from trying not to drool. Mm-mm.

I switched my searching-through-the-woods-backpack to my regular-schoolgirl-backpack and brought my toothbrush with me to the closest bathroom, brushing my teeth at record time before someone walked in and I'd be labeled a freak before even officially started. Nothing I could do about the dark circles under my already pale eyes. I looked like a ghost and felt like a corpse. _How fitting…_

"Miss Blair." The principal spoke with a watered-down British accent, and he looked through my folder – consisting of a single, handwritten page most likely from our phone conversation. He did not look thoroughly impressed. "I'm sorry your Aunt won't be able to meet with me for the time being, there are several things we need to sort out before we can ensure that you'll receive the appropriate academic schooling. I'm not overly familiar with the legal issues regarding private schooling in Pennsylvania, but there is a nation-wide requirement to standardized test in third, fifth, and eighth grade. The very least we require is a transcript."

"I've done them, the paperwork just hasn't been settled yet," I quickly said, conjuring several ways in my mind to trick one of my teaching Aunts to send me my current school records. "They'll probably be here by the end of the week."

"And it is very unfortunate, starting in the middle of the school year like this," Principal Thomas went on, but in the end he let me fill out the necessary forms, and sent me to an office assistant to help me with my class schedule. During my first week, I'd have to take several tests to measure my academic levels, just as 'my Aunt' had agreed to one the phone. Luckily, the first one wasn't before Monday, so I had the upcoming weekend to prepare. The office lady directed me to my first class – Chemistry – and gave me a notice slip to hand the teacher, explaining my presence and tardiness.

I reached the classroom door indicated. Should I knock? Or just open it very carefully? Maybe it was best if I just waited until the next class, so I could be early, before everyone else – what if all the seats were taken in there?

_Four rules: To know, to will, to dare…_

I opened the door carefully, peering inside to see the entire class, including the male teacher, looking at me curiously. Oh crap. The boy from the hospital – Stiles – saw me and gave a bright wave, and before I knew it my cheeks were flushed with heat. I darted inside and over to the teacher, handing him my slip. He resembled a snake with glasses, and gave me a cool once-over before reading my notice.

"Very well," he said, sounding utterly annoyed at my presence. "Class, pay attention. We have a new student among us, Cassandra Blair. Miss Blair, I am Mr. Harris and be advised that I will not tolerate such unpunctuality again. You may be seated _there_." He indicated the empty desk at the front of the classroom. "You are fortunate enough to join us in the middle of a _pop quiz_," he even hissed, "which will give me ample opportunity to determine if your academic progress is up to par with my standards."

_Whoa, channeling Professor Snape much?_

Dumbstruck, I took my seat, scurrying to fish out my pencil case before a paper slapped down before me, courtesy of Mr. Harris.

"That will be the _last_ disturbance in this class," he gave a pointed look to someone behind me and I didn't dare to peek, "return to your test _now_."

I let my panicked eyes roam over the hieroglyphic questions, feeling my heartbeat rising at a rapid pace. _No, no, you can do this. You love Chemistry, don't let it intimidate you. Come on!_

A susurration of whispers rose from the back of the room, and I snuck a glance at the teacher, with his back turned, and then craned my neck to see who was making a fuss. A handsome boy in a form-fitting blue shirt seemed to have a nosebleed – wait, was that black blood? I didn't get a proper look, before he clutched his nose and stormed out of the class with a '_Jackson_!' from the teacher. Left at his desk was another handsome boy, this one tanner and in a white shirt, who stared confused at the door for a while. Mr. Harris promised the entire class punishment if every question wasn't answered by the time the bell rang. I made some wild guesses on the last few, but still felt slightly better by the time class was over.

The nose-bleeder, Jackson, didn't return to class. Black blood? No, that didn't sound remotely connected to the Blair-family at all. I had a bad feeling about this, but skipping class the first day of school when the principal already was suspicious didn't make it to the top of the list of spectacularly good ideas. My search for Lydia had to wait, but I kept checking the local news site on my phone every few minutes, waiting in vain for the notice that the missing teenage girl had been found.

It took me a few minutes to get the hang of the locker system, but after some false starts I successfully opened my very own, slightly smelly high school locker. I suppressed the urge to squeal in delight, and stuffed the textbook Mr. Harris gave me inside. We'd gotten homework too, but I could worry about that later. I had a locker!

"Heeey, locker buddies!"

"_Uah_!" I slammed the locker door shut, barely missing my own fingers. I stared wide-eyed at the grinning Stiles on the other side. "What?"

"Locker buddies? Our lockers are neighbors?" He gestured towards his open and my closed one.

"Neighbors?" Oh mother, here comes the blush.

"Yeah, you know. _Next to each other_," he spelled out slowly, his everlasting grin fading slightly.

I looked at his locker and back at mine. "Oh, right. I didn't know – that's a thing?" I tugged on the sleeves of my plaid button down. "That's-that's-that's an important thing?"

"Yeah, it's great! Means we'll be seeing a lot of each other," he said and smiled with his mouth closed. He leaned in and added, "Lydia's cousin."

"Does it?"

"Um, yeah? Between classes and before school starts and the end of the day, there are literally hundreds of different scenarios where we'll be at our lockers the same time." His whole body moved as he spoke, gesturing everywhere at once.

"I-I've never had a locker before," I mumbled, unconsciously stroking my hand down the blue front. He caught my gesture with a raised eyebrow.

"What, your old school was one of those really cheap ones where you're expected to carry _everything_ all day long in your backpack and then get scoliosis? You know, at least 14,000 kids in America alone are treated to backpack-related injuries every year."

"No, I…" I tugged on my sleeves again, concealing my hands inside the fabric. Should I be telling him this? Everyone knew that homeschooled equaled weirdo, after all. Technically, I hadn't been homeschooled – the Academy was registered within the county as a religious private school – but trying to explain the whole story behind that would be even more disastrous. I blurted out, "I was homeschooled."

His smile vanished instantly, and I felt my own face grow blank. Oh no, I'd scared him off. If I hadn't been acting weird enough at the hospital, this was definitely the killing blow. Oh, Cassie, couldn't you have kept your mouth shut?

"For reals?"

"I – uh – yes, for 'reals'."

"Huh." He put his hands on his hips for a second, staring out into the hallway. "Well, locker pro-tip, get hold of some febreze and spray the heck out of that bitch!"

"Oh-"

His face still hadn't returned to his trademark grin, but grew even more serious as he leaned in, glancing left and right in case someone eavesdropped. "Um, so listen, you haven't heard anything about Lydia, have you?"

"No, nothing. Why? Have you?"

He shook his head, sucking in his lips. "Nope, not a peep. Just between you and me, does Lydia have a history of these things? Like, did she sleepwalk as a kid? Or have major breakdowns in the showers or whatever?"

"I'm…um…I haven't seen Lydia for ten years," I whispered, suddenly adopting his secretive stance. "I doubt she'll even recognize me."

"Ten years? What, you guys never heard of Skype?"

"Lydia's mom and my mom had a falling out," I tried to explain, twisting the truth around. "We used to visit before, but…"

"Huh." I had no chance of reading his expression, but I felt he suspected me of something. He seemed to give me the benefit of the doubt though, because he straightened up and smiled again.

"So, what's your next class?"

I squinted down onto my schedule, deciphering the cursive writing. "Oh! History, I think, with Mr. Westover."

"Dude!" he exclaimed, hitting my shoulder so I backed away with wide eyes. "Me too!"

I glanced from his fist, to my violated shoulder and to his face-wide grin. "Dude?" I ventured, my heartbeat going crazy inside my chest. That was the first time I ever got to call someone 'dude'.

"Yeah! Awesome! Come on!"

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

I made a mistake in the previous chapter, referring to Grandmother Blair as the mother of Natalie Martin and Lilith Blair, it's supposed to be grandmother and will be frome hereon. Cassie refers to her as grandmother more as a title.

Anyway, I hope you liked it. Please, _please_ review to let me know what you think (and you know, encourage me to update sooner) and I want to thank the lovely people who put this on their favorite list after the first chapter. Mwah!

**And how do you feel about the chapter length? Is it too long?**


	3. Houses

_Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to Teen Wolf nor its characters. This piece of fiction is created purely out of love for the show and no profit will be made._

**An Ye Harm None**

**Chapter 3 – Houses**

The school buzzed with gossip and slander, but surprisingly not about the missing Lydia Martin. Rather it was some poor girl's aunt that stole the spotlight. Alleged serial killer, arsonist and due to be put into the ground today. I had an hour of free period that I spent in the library, looking up old news stories to put some pieces together. If this Kate Argent was behind all of the other animal attacks, could she be the one to have attacked Lydia as well? The articles severely lacked any details, but from what I could gather, they put Kate Argent's time of death at the same night as Lydia's assault. But who killed Kate?

A conspiracy theory website presented the evidence that every person killed the last months had something to do with the fire at the Hale house. But if Kate had been behind that…did she cover her own tracks or did someone seek revenge?

_Click click click_

Hale House Fire, happened six years ago. Sheesh, remind me to stay away from that ruin of sorrow – eight deceased and one comatose, two surviving teenagers. _Burned to death. _The newspaper listed it as a terrible tragedy. _Burn_. The name Derek Hale popped up as well, he had first been a suspect in killing his sister, the first suspicious death this year, and then later for killing a janitor at this very school – now exonerated. Okay. I wonder what I would find if I searched my family's archives for mentions of Hale and Argent, because the more I looked at it, the more it appeared that every death lately had been connected to them somehow.

One thing was certain though, if Kate never attacked Lydia, or if she did and someone else attacked Kate – Lydia was not safe out there. I needed to find her before nightfall. I rubbed my eyes for the umpteenth time. The only reason I'd managed to stay awake during classes so far had been because my adrenaline high still hadn't let down, but I ran low on everything vital – sleep, food, showers… Not to mention that I didn't exactly want to attract any unwanted attention to myself.

I fiddled with the simple pendant I carried around my throat. Sabrina let me have it after Mom died. Aunt Darcy had said the stone was hematite, but it was just a simple black crystal with a hole through it for the chain. It was also known as blood ore or _stone of the mind. _

_Desperate times calls for desperate measures_, I thought, searching up a large-scale map of Beacon Hills. With some help from the librarian and a brief lie about this being for a project, I carried with me a poster-sized map of the town and surrounding area as the bell rang. I had to get to AP Calculus.

I dashed through the doors before anyone else, desperate to get a seat in the back, just in case I nodded of. As I finished folding my map, the room filled up with laughing, talking or quiet people my age. I recognized a few: the tan boy from Chemistry, the frizzy-haired blonde from French and…Blue Eyes, Gravedigger Boy.

His black eye looked even worse under the fluorescent lighting, and his gaze flickered to me just as I realized I was staring. Studying my new textbook intently, I didn't dare look up at him as he took the seat next to me. Why would he sit next to me? There were plenty other seats available in the room! _Oh Mother, don't panic._ Easier said than done.

"You never told me you were looking for Lydia Martin," he said softly, little more than a murmur as the teacher entered and sorted her papers on her desk. Mother, why did everyone have to be so handsome around here?

"How could I possibly tell that you know her?" I mumbled back, doodling some random shapes in my notebook, unable to keep my hands still.

He made a weird noise, possibly a snort. "Everyone knows who Lydia Martin is."

I dared to sneak a peek at his face and his jaw was set in a locked position. What did that mean? Did she get picked on at school? Have the family curse followed her all the way here to set her aside from society, make her an outcast? I didn't get to ask him anything, because the teacher noticed me.

"Oh, we have a new student in class!" The large black woman exclaimed, looking down her glasses at me. "Miss Blair, welcome to AP Calculus. My name is Mrs. Moore, obviously I'm your teacher…"

We briefly repeated some of the course content on continuity and moved on to derivatives, and I more than once tried to glance inconspicuously over at Blue Eyes' problems because this class moved at a rapid pace and my mathematic skills were rusty. He was on to me however, because he more than once pushed his paper my way so I could for example more easily see how he used the product rule on question 23, c.

At three, precisely mind you, we were dismissed and Gravedigger Boy mumbled a 'see you around' before rushing out of the room. Okay, so no more questions about Lydia with him then. I quenched the disappointment, I thought he might want to talk to me.

Mrs. Moore held me back a few minutes, inquiring about my academic history and how I found Beacon Hills so far, but at 3:15 I powerwalked over to my car and sped out towards the bank Aunt Belinda said would provide the key to the Blair House. I used my driver's license as ID and even then the clerk called Aunt Belinda to confirm that yes, they were indeed to hand out the key to a minor. He made me sign some forms, staring at me the whole time like he memorized my features in case of a following police report.

And here I was. The Blair House in Beacon Hills, I swear on all things holy it could have been used as the setting for The Addams Family-movies. A light gust of wind tore off some remaining paint chips, but it was apparent no one had been here for a while. Overgrown bushes crept over the fence and started to take on the patio too. Don't get me wrong; it was a spectacular house – three stories, huge windows and a covered porch. But neglect and nature had worked their kind of magic.

For some reason, the gate itself was left untouched by unruly growths and even though its rusty hinges protested, it opened without much fuss. The front door squeaked – of course it squeaked, this was a damned horror house – but opened as well. For some inexplicable reason I wanted to call out 'Hello?' into the untouched air, but didn't. This was not a horror movie and there was no one here, no one had been here for a while either. Nearest neighbor were probably a few miles away. Okay, maybe it was a horror movie.

My footsteps echoed in the dining room when I walked in. White cloth covered the paintings or mirrors on the wall, along with every major piece of furniture. There were a few knickknacks, but mostly everything had been stowed away and covered up. When they left, they planned to be gone a long time. I left the stale air of the dining room, glancing briefly at the covered portrait hanging over the fireplace. If I remembered correctly that was a portrait of my earliest namesake, the first Cassandra Blair. Condemned of witchcraft and burned to death during the late 1500s.

_First by enemies…_

I shook the eerie voice away and closed the door firmly behind me. I didn't need the whole house. The kitchen's pantries and cupboards were blessedly empty for everything but clean dishes and cutlery, not a suspicious looking jar or organic beholder in sight. In fact, apart from the dust and rust on the old stove, it looked clean enough. No rats, no mouse droppings, not even flies in the windows. Maybe the House ate them?

On a second thought - I eyed the gloomy interior suspiciously - that wasn't funny at all.

I flicked the light switch desolately, and jumped when the room actually lit up. Staring at the ceiling light, I just rolled my eyes. Of course, _of course_ we would spend a fortune keeping an abandoned house connected to the power grid for ten years. What about the…yes. The plumbing groaned and spluttered out a foul-smelling brown liquid, before eventually the faucet delivered clear water. I decided to let it run for a while.

The kitchen had two exits, one to the hallway and one to the backyard. Well, it practically opened out into the forest now, but it had been a backyard once. The back door creaked less than the front one, maybe for a reason. Grandmother Blair used to mistrust front doors, saying there was only three times in your life it was proper to come through the front door, and you were carried every time. I could see my car from here though; I parked it further down the road where you actually had room to turn around – the Blair House didn't exactly come with a garage, it was built before cars became standard.

The Blair House. Dark and gloomy it may be, but I didn't feel unwelcome here, just uncomfortable. This was a house fit for a whole family, not a lone teenage girl who ran off from hers. I always felt safe here, when Mom would take Sabrina and I to meet Aunt Natalie. But Mom wasn't here anymore.

_Family's important._

I spread my map over the solid wooden kitchen table, using candleholders to keep the edges down. It showed a large portion of Beacon County, including the preserve I stumbled around in last night. I reached back to unclasp the pendant with the hematite crystal; it always seemed heavier when not worn around my neck.

"Okay, here goes," I mumbled and put the string loosely around my middle finger. I spread them, so only gravity affected the pendant's location. I stretched my arm out and the pendant dangled over the map, before closing my eyes. Okay, so I hadn't technically done anything like this…_ever_, but I had read about it. Seemed easy enough. Just focus on what you want to find and the talisman would lead you to it. I'm pretty sure Mom did this once when I was a lot younger. But telling the future had never been my thing – I always had a better connection to the past.

_Focus, come on. _

"Lydia Lydia Lydia Lydia," I chanted under my breath, willing her image to fill my mind. Only, I didn't even know what she looked like anymore. When I thought of Lydia, this chubby girl with pigtails popped up in my head. But hadn't I seen her? In my dream?

A pale girl lying on a patch of wet grass flashed before me. So much _blood_. Her hair, several shades lighter than my own, covered her face. I only saw her eyes, green, dead eyes. _Blood_. It ran from her abdomen and onto the lawn – no, wait – lacrosse field? Why was she even there, in her pretty party dress and high heels? And where is she now? _Concentrate!_

"Lydia," I whispered the last time, feeling a gentle tug on the pendant. I hit my head on the table as I collapsed.

* * *

><p>When I woke, it's to a dull ache in my forehead and sprawled out over the floor planks. I sat up, feeling the hunger pangs making the world spin more than necessary. Where was I?<p>

I pushed some unruly tendrils away from my eyes, and my fingers came back sticky with half-dried blood. I must have hit the table harder than I thought. A chill rushed through me. _Lydia! _

"Oh Lady of mercy," I moan when I stand up. My knuckles turn white from clutching the table to just steady the room and myself. When I bring Lydia back to the hospital, I'll have to check myself for a concussion. Once the map is sufficiently less blurred, I see the pendant sitting a few inches away from where it fell when I passed out. It looked to be in the woods, just off route five. I snatched the necklace with me.

I rushed out the back door of the kitchen, not too concerned with locking it, and sprinted down to my car. How long had I been out? It'd grown completely dark now, and I was probably a few miles away from the nearest streetlight. I put on the headlamps and forced myself to drive slower than I initially wanted. No use getting into an accident just because I hit my head on the stupid kitchen table. Of course there was a price to take the easy way out for finding her – it would be worth it.

It took me at least an hour to get there, and the entire time I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel and peered periodically out of the window in case I saw a pale girl walking on the side of the road. I squinted my eyes a bit – there were a whole bunch of lights up ahead. I exhaled forcibly. More police cars, with blinking lights and…an ambulance? This couldn't be good. Had they found her already?

I pulled over and clutched the steering wheel tightly. The back of the ambulance was wide open and the man inside couldn't possibly be alive – not with that much of his blood covering the walls. What the hell was wrong with this town? Did Lydia do this? The map led me here after all.

Maybe if I could get inside the ambulance, closer to the victim, he'd tell me more about what happened. Someone tore that man open. Literally. I mean, grave robbing was one thing, but murder?

The Sheriff was talking to Stiles when I got out of the car, and shielded his eyes against the headlights. How come Stiles was here? Who cares? As soon as the night air hit me, so did the unwavering feeling of being close – she's here.

"Are you ser – _Cassie_?" The Sheriff asked, marching over to me with his son in tow. "Do I even want to – what happened to your head? You're bleeding?"

For the second time in that day, he touched my hair – this time to reveal whatever head injury I had sustained in my contact with the table. I barely noticed him or Stiles' grim look at my arrival; I stared out into the dark forest.

"Where is she? Where's Lydia?" I asked, glancing briefly at the Sheriff as he let his hand fall.

"Cassie, Lydia's not here. This has nothing to do with her, this was an attack on the ambulance," he clarified, crossing his arms in a paternal gesture. "Come on, I'll get someone to drive you home."

"_No!" _I flinched myself at the intensity of my voice, and both the Stilinskis halted to give me a concerned look. "No, no, she's here. I know she-"

The Sheriff put his arm out when I tried to walk over to the other side of the ambulance. I knew she was here, I just couldn't see her yet. I pushed his arm off me, nearly stumbling towards a thick patch of trees.

"Lydia!" I called, my voice hoarse and desperate. "_Lydia!" _

"Cassie!" The Sheriff yelled, the gravel crunching under his feet when he followed me. "Cassie, get back here!"

Too late. I slithered into the dark foliage. I felt like a homing beacon – she was here, she had to be, she just did. I felt it, the map told me so, where was she?

"_Lydia!" _I shouted again, spinning around several times to – and there she was. Like a very naked, very scared forest nymph, she emerged behind some bushes. She still wore the hospital bracelet on her wrist. "Lydia."

My world span. Never in my life had I felt this connection with anyone, this desperate need to just _find_ her and now that I had, I didn't know what to do anymore. Big, petrified eyes met mine and I realized she'd been crying. Her eyebrows went up and down a few times. She didn't recognize me.

"Lydia?" I asked, carefully. Her hands shook, from cold or fear or both. Her hair looked redder in the darkness of the forest, more like mine, but it was covered in twigs and leaves. She looked beautiful.

She stared at me a few more seconds before saying, "Cassandra?"

My heart broke at her tiny voice, she sounded so scared. Finally, my brain started working again and I tore off my flannel shirt to cover her and she grasped the fabric as I led her back to the murder scene. No blood on her, I noted. I held my arm firmly around her shoulder, she was barely an inch shorter than me, and willed myself to give her some warmth. We walked slowly; she had no shoes on either.

"Lydia?" Stiles' surprised voice came the second we stepped into the light. Lydia's gaze had been fixed on the forest floor a few feet ahead of us, but she blinked and looked up when Stiles shouted one more time, "LYDIA!"

She looked from him and back to me, holding my shirt in such a way that most of her was covered. "Cassandra?" she asked again. It was like she was waking up. In front of us the policemen had stopped dead in their tracks, but now they started up again. Some rushed forward with a blanket and others called a new ambulance to get her back to the hospital.

"I had a dream about you," she said in a distant voice as the Sheriff laid a thick blanket around her shoulders. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. Before I knew it, she enveloped me in the blanket as well, clutching her arms around my neck in a tight, desperate hug. She whispered in my ear, "You died."

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

Chapter three! :D I hope you enjoyed it. Please, please _**review!**_ I'm desperate for some feedback, because I've already written fifteeen more chapters and I want to know what to alter or improve before I just upload everything and no one wants to read it. So please! **Review!**

Then I want to thank _Elisabeth Hale9157, Ilovestoriedandfanfic, LucyRider17, RHatch89, Sassi15, lenie954, coveryoureyes and noemi-fin_ for following or favoriting my story after two chapters! I am so grateful! 3

And a particularly huge shoutout to_** RHatch89**_ who took the time to review as well. Thank you!


	4. Sunflowers

_Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to Teen Wolf nor its characters. This piece of fiction is created purely out of love for the show and no profit will be made._

**An Ye Harm None**

**Chapter 4 – Sunflowers**

Stiles' knee bounced erratically in the waiting room of the hospital. Sheriff Stilinski sent me with Lydia in the ambulance, and now he was off talking to Lydia's parents. Stiles followed us in his car, and sat down opposite me when Lydia was brought in for a check-up. That was at least an hour ago.

Occasionally, he glanced up at me, on the verge of saying something, but each time he changed his mind while making a face. There were no grins from his side this time.

Seeing as Lydia left with my flannel shirt and I only wore a gray tank top now, the Sheriff had been kind enough to provide me with a blanket of my own. I fiddled with the edges, churning Lydia's foreboding words over in my head. I tried asking her in the ambulance, but she didn't even remember. _You died…_

"Okay, I don't get it." Stiles finally broke the silence, shrugging dramatically. "I don't. I need you to clarify something: How'd you know she was there? How did you know that the cousin you haven't seen in _ten _years was there, in the middle of nowhere, next to an unrelated crime scene?"

I sighed and crossed my arms underneath the blanket. To be honest, I kind of waited for this question. Not that I had any better answer for that reason. "I just did."

He scoffed, looking appalled at my inconclusive answer, his entire body moved in sync with his speaking. "You just – you just _did? _You just happened to stumble over a crime scene and find your missing cousin?"

"Why were _you_ there?" I shot back, raising my eyebrows. "I didn't know it was 'Bring-your-kid-to-work'-day for the sheriff's department."

"I…I had a perfectly good reason to be there," he rambled, using his hands to gesture about. Liar.

"Which is?"

"I-I don't have to tell you anything," he said, sitting back in his chair with crossed arms. I mimicked his position as well as his stupid expression.

"So that means _I _don't have to tell _you _anything?"

He fell silent again. Why _had_ he been there anyway? Come on, he was the _only one _visiting in the hospital when I got here, he was the first one to rush into the bathroom when she went missing and now he just coincidentally happen to be there when she's found? And I'm the weird one here? So far, Stiles quickly climbed to the top of my suspect-list.

Stiles opened his mouth to retort, but stopped to look at something behind me. Twisting my head around, it turned out to be Mrs. Martin and the Sheriff. The latter took a look at his son and signaled for him to follow; they walked out of the waiting room. I stared at Aunt Natalie – Mrs. Martin, I mean – a few seconds before looking at the ceiling. I'd been seven when she had a fall out with the family, but I caught some of the rows between her and Mom, the things she called us. She wouldn't react positively to my presence.

"Cassandra," she said and I squeezed my eyes shut. She sounded just like Mom, only younger and…alive. "Lydia told me you were here, I almost didn't believe her first."

Okay, this was good. No shouting, no obscenities or even the tiniest hateful glare. I couldn't exactly claim to be close to her, but she was my biological aunt after all. Her hair held a more brown shade, but the high cheekbones were all from our side of the family. _But she didn't come to the funeral…_

"It was very kind of you to visit Lydia," she said, her voice calm and collected, the perfect trophy wife. Was she putting on a show? We were in a very public place after all. Maybe she didn't want to create a scene? "Do you have a place to stay for the night?"

Did she just offer me a bed? I gaped at her, trying to collect my thoughts to answer. This was way beyond what I expected. She reached into her expensive looking purse and pulled out a wad of bills. I accepted them numbly. _What the hell? _

"I hear the motel over at I-191 is safe and clean, but I suppose it doesn't matter, you'll only be staying there one night after all. I guess you want to get an early start back, it's a long way to Pennsylvania."

It didn't sound remotely like a threat; her voice so indifferent I got the impression she actually believed I drove all the way here just to visit my cousin at the hospital and immediately return.

"Aunt – I mean, Mrs. Martin," I stuttered. "I'm not leaving."

She cocked her head to the side, giving me a shallow smile. "Oh?"

"No, I…I'm going to finish the school year here, I transferred and everything…" I trailed of, her expression hadn't wavered even a fraction.

"Oh?" Her voice was painfully cheerful and false. "Oh, that's – that's lovely. I'm sure Lydia will – how lovely."

What on Earth? Okay, so she hadn't shouted at me or threatened with a restraining order, but she hadn't thanked me either or asked how I even knew Lydia was in the hospital in the first place. Was it just for appearances or had she swept everything so far under the rug she couldn't find it herself?

"Well then. Take care, Cassandra," she said and walked off before I remembered I still had her money in my hand. I could always give it to Lydia to give back later. Or you know, save it for a rainy day. Compensation for ten years worth of missed Christmas presents?

I slumped back in the uncomfortable chair. Of all the receptions I envisioned, this one was actually the most painful. It'd been ten years, for crying out loud. And eight since Mom died. She didn't even mention her. Yeah, sure, I suppose a hug and some words of concern for my wellbeing was a little too much to hope for, but I would actually have preferred yelling. She didn't care at all.

"Cassie?"

The Sheriff crouched before me; I realized he'd been trying to get my attention. He wrinkled his brows, taking in the flesh-colored band-aid covering my little head bump. "You got a doctor to look at that?"

I pushed my hair behind my ears and nodded. "Yeah, it'll be fine. No concussion, just a nasty bruise."

"You got someone to take you home?"

Home? Where was home? 2,000 miles away in Pennsylvania or that morbid house up in the woods with sheet-covered furniture? The Sheriff sighed when I didn't answer.

"Do you have anyone I can call?" he asked and it hit me that getting teenage girls to safety was part of his job description. Maybe he expected me to go along with Lydia and her mother. Hah. But then again, if I told him I basically lived alone in a 90 years old house he might actually call social services on me.

"I live with my sister," I said before thinking too much about it. I hated lying. "She's away right now, business trip."

I wished my voice didn't come out as sad as it did, but he nodded in an understanding manner. He patted my hand awkwardly, got up and had a low conversation with Stiles, who lurked in the doorway.

They kept their voices hushed enough for me not to catch anything besides "_But Dad!" _and the sentence: "She spent the last night sleeping in the woods looking for her cousin," followed by something indiscernible. What was going on?

"Cassie? Come on, Stiles is going to drive you back to our house for the night," the Sheriff said and Stiles slumped defeated behind him. "We have a guest room that hasn't seen much use the last years. It's not much, but…"

"It's okay, I'll just take a cab home," I hastily evaded, not meeting either of their eyes. "Really, I'm fine."

"Come on, it's a school night. Stiles will take you up to route five tomorrow to pick up your car," the Sheriff said and Stiles practically rolled his eyes back into his skull.

I planned on staying in the hospital until Lydia was released, but if she went home with her mother, where would I go? Of course I didn't want to be alone tonight up at the House, but intruding on the Sheriff's hospitality when his son really, clearly didn't want me there or he might turn out to be the one after my cousin…nope, not exactly tempting.

The Sheriff turned to have a staring contest with his son, the latter throwing his hands out in a '_Are you serious?'-_motion. A few seconds later, Stiles tossed his head back and made a powerful exhale.

"Fine! Whatever, let's go," he whined and grabbed onto my wrist, dragging me out of the waiting room. My blanket trailed behind me like a cape.

"I'll be by later, just need to finish up some stuff here," the Sheriff said as a parting and Stiles continued to lead me through the front doors and down to his jeep.

"For the record," he said when we were inside and buckled up. "I didn't agree to this."

"Technically, neither did I," I said meekly. "Look, you can just take me home, it's just a fifteen minute drive from here."

Stiles drummed his fingers on the steering while, his jaw clenching and unclenching. He looked at me, back out the window and then started the car.

"No, Dad's right. You shouldn't be alone tonight," he muttered and made the turn onto the main road. "Besides, he threatened to make me pay for my own gas."

The rest of the drive went by in silence. Well, no talking at least, the motor of this beast had a life and voice of its own. There wasn't even a radio. I'm not saying it was a wreck, but even my old, beat-up Honda from '85 seemed like a modern spaceship compared to this thing. Apart from the engine roar though, it was a smooth ride.

We slowed down at a quaint two-story house in a cozy neighborhood. Stiles put his car on the driveway, leaving room for his dad to drive into the garage. I followed him out without a word, noticing the small front yard, but lack of flowers. Stiles rummaged around in his many pockets – jeans, sweatshirt, and outer jacket – and eventually found his keys to lock us inside. There were tablecloths on the dresser I suspected neither Stiles nor the Sheriff had ever put there, but I got the feeling Stiles' mom was out of the picture.

No, she was _in _the pictures. The hallway walls were riddled with family photographs, most of them depicting a happy family of three, although some were just Stiles and one of his parents or just his parents. She died, I realized, letting the mood of the house settle on me. And she was missed terribly. At least he had his father. I smiled thinly. I never had a father. Well, I'm sure I did, once. No one bothered to tell me about him, that's all. Sabrina knew more about him than me, but she never talked about him either. I stopped asking when I was five.

"You hungry?" Stiles' sour tone pulled me out of my reminiscing. He didn't say anything, but his face betrayed just exactly what he felt about me looking at the family photographs.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" I trailed off, remembering how sick I became of hearing people say they were sorry for me.

He avoided my gaze, preferring to look at the floor. "Come on, we got some leftover quinoa casserole."

"_Quinoa_ casserole?" I asked, following him into the neat kitchen where he went to heat up some food for us both.

"Yeah, you know. Super healthy grain with tons of protein?" His sarcastic tone didn't falter a bit.

"I just – it's hard to picture the Sheriff making anything else than pancakes or, you know, hamburgers. Honestly, I expected more take-away boxes."

"Yeah, well, he doesn't. I'm the one who does all the cooking, have to make sure the man doesn't kill himself by high cholesterol." He slammed the microwave door shut, putting a bowl in front of me on the breakfast bar. "He'd be living on curly fries and donuts if it wasn't for me."

He kept ranting, and I half-expected to hear the sentence 'And do I ever hear a _thank-you_? No!' come out of his mouth. He shut up to eat his own casserole, slurping loudly while glaring at me. I hastily picked up my own spoon and burned my tongue the first time in my eagerness.

"How did you know Lydia would be there?" he asked, snatching my bowl away just as I finished.

"How did you?" I countered before I took a sip from my water.

"I had my reasons," he said and shrugged.

"So did I."

"If you're Lydia's cousin, why didn't you go home with her and her mom?"

"That's none of your business."

It was pretty obvious that me showing up at the murder scene made me a suspect in Stiles' book. I'm not sure if it was for the murder itself or if it had something to do with Lydia's disappearance. Whatever goodwill Stiles bestowed upon me earlier at school had disappeared the instant I ran off into the woods to get Lydia.

And likewise, Stiles' behavior seemed increasingly suspicious to me. There was something seriously weird going on in Beacon Hills and my gut told me Stiles and possibly Lydia were right in the thick of it.

We glared at each other, but Stiles broke first, playing it off with scratching his neck. "Come on, I'll show you where you'll sleep." Truce, for now at least. He took me upstairs and I made a point of not stopping to look at the pictures this time.

"That's my room," he threw his hand out to a door on the left, "that's the bathroom, that over there's my dad's and this," he opened the door closest to the stairs, "is the guest room." He flicked the light switch.

Don't get me wrong now, I did not have a bad childhood. I grew up surrounded with tons of family and people who cared about me, but still…I never had my own room to decorate or settle into, I always shared with my sister or cousins. And my family preferred slightly traditional values and styles; no one would ever, in their life, paint a room yellow. I loved it; it was the color of sunflowers. The bed was covered in frilly pillows and white bedspreads and there were more lace tablecloths on the dresser by the wall. It wasn't a big room, not much more space than for the single bed and dresser and I could cross the entire width in a big step.

"It's not much, I know, but the sheets are clean and there's some towels in the drawer if you want to take a shower or something, I don't know, you can probably borrow some of my clothes," Stiles rattled on, suddenly sounding embarrassed by the room.

"Not much?" I breathed, finally walking in on the carpet-covered floor. "It's amazing."

"Uh-huh, yeah," Stiles said and hastily coughed into his arm when I turned to look. He appeared uncomfortable. "So, I'll drive you to school tomorrow. You wanna get your car before or after? 'Cus I got practice after classes, so unless you want to hang around to watch those, we'll have to go-"

"Can I? Is that allowed?"

He did a double take. "What? Can you what?"

"Watch? The practice, I mean. I've never seen lacrosse before, it sounds like fun." And it'll help me keep my thoughts of other sore subjects.

"Uuuuh, sure, I guess. There are a lot of girlfriends who watch from the bleachers." He caught himself and stuttered, "N-n-not that I'm implying that you're my girlfriend. Or that I want you to be. Not that I _don't_ want you to be, I just have my sight set on someone else." He scratched his neck again and said in a singsong voice, "I'm raaambling."

"It's oka-"

The door slammed downstairs and cut of whatever I had to say, I couldn't even remember anymore. The Sheriff came up the stairs with a small convenience store bag in his hands.

"I, uh, picked up some stuff for you," he said, giving it to me. "Just a toothbrush, a comb, some und – stuff like that."

It didn't hit me how long my last few days had been or exactly how relieved I was that Lydia was okay, before I stood in that yellow bedroom with the white plastic bag in my hands and started to cry. Not sniffling or silent tears falling either, but real ugly crying, sobs and snorts, the whole package.

"I-I-I'm so-horry," I bawled, sinking down onto the bed and letting my hair cover my face. "I'm just really, really tired. And really, really far away from ho-ome. And you're being so nice to me and you don't even know me-heee…"

"Stiles, go get some tissues," the Sheriff ordered and his son bolted out of the room. The bed dipped down as the Sheriff sat down next to me, leaning forwards on his knees with hands clasped together. He was probably used to hysterical teenagers.

"You'll be fine, Cassie. When was the last time you slept? In a bed?" he asked, gently and I had to remind myself to go easy on the details, because the Sheriff was the kind of person you wanted to tell everything. The kind of person you knew would make everything better once he knew the problem.

"Um, a few days ago," I admitted. I used my palm to wipe away some tears and sniffled. "I was so scared for Lydia, that she wouldn't make it. I drove here pretty much in one go."

"Okay, now I'm no doctor, but I think, with that head bump you got and the amount of stress of the last few days, you'll feel like a brand new person tomorrow morning," he said and I smiled through tears and snot.

A bang and a crash later, Stiles threw himself into the doorway. "Tissues! I got the tissues!"

He forced the box under my chin and I started to dab at my face before blowing my nose thoroughly. The Sheriff gave me a solid pat on the shoulder, before they both left me with promises of being right down the hall if I needed anything. I took up on Stiles' offer on a shower, and the blessed Sheriff even included underwear and socks in his gift bag while I borrowed a blue plaid shirt from Stiles.

Gods, when was the last time I cried in front of someone like that? I must have made them insanely uncomfortable. I smiled to myself while I sat on the multi-colored bed in the yellow room, braiding my hair back. My suspicions towards Stiles were somewhat diminished when I fell asleep, but not eradicated. Tomorrow I'd find out more.

* * *

><p>The next day went by in a blur. Stiles had some grumpy, sarcastic remarks for me hogging his bathroom time in the morning, but made it up by fixing breakfast for everyone. The Sheriff wished us a good day at school and reminded Stiles that he needed to take me to get my Honda. It was surreal, like an episode of a sitcom, like I was part of their family. But I knew the Sheriff was just a really decent guy and Stiles didn't want me near their house anymore.<p>

His earlier delight regarding our parallel lockers seemed to have vanished and I was thankful we were in different classes the first period. Well, I say class, but everyone else called it 'Homeroom' and it lasted only ten minutes with attendance being taken and everyone rushed of to their prospective lessons. My first proper class was Economics, with yet another new teacher and another book to drag around. I looked around in the classroom, but didn't see Lydia or anyone else I recognized. I didn't expect her to be back today. After all she hadn't been properly released from the hospital when she ran of a few days ago and I doubt her time in the woods helped her general state. I tried to take notes about government regulation, but drifted of.

Class ended and I finally noticed that my entire notebook page was covered in drawings of a flower – monkshood. That was really odd, usually I tended to doodle daffodils or cartoon cats with moustaches. Monkshood? Of all flowers? Odd.

I wished I had Lydia's number, so I could at least text her to see if she needed anything or if it was okay for me to visit. We hadn't spoken much yesterday, in the ambulance she'd been dreamlike before snapping out of it and complaining about the state of her hair. And at the hospital, she'd been taken straight to see the doctors with her parents fussing around her. If she thought my presence weird, she hadn't said anything then. I wonder what she was like now…

"Hey, Stiles," I said to my locker buddy between classes. He froze for a second, but kept rummaging in his locker instead of answering. "Do you know where I can get Lydia's number?"

"Nope," he said, slammed his locker shut and walked away. He met up with a tanner, longer-haired boy down the hall and they stopped to talk, occasionally giving me looks. Okay, so we were definitely not on speaking terms anymore and I'd used up my sympathy-quota after my breakdown last night. And the way those boys looked at me-

"Hey, if you want Lydia's number, I'd talk to Jackson," a dark-skinned girl I'd never seen before said. She apparently was my other locker buddy. "They used to go out."

"Wait, who's Jackson?" I asked, furrowing my brows. Was it normal to just listen in on other's conversations in high school? The girl laughed.

"Um, I don't know, only the hottest guy in school, co-captain of the lacrosse team, drives a _killer_ Porsche?"

I'd heard the name before, but where? So far, the only one I knew the name of at the school was Stiles and the teachers.

The bell rang, but I couldn't move. A lump of ice rested in my stomach. _No. Way. _Black-nose blood guy? That was Lydia's boyfriend? Mother of good, what have you gotten yourself into, Lydia?

I sprinted down the hallway to get to Biology, and nearly smacked right into the man of the hour – nosebleeder.

"Watch it, ginger," he sneered and pushed into the classroom before me. Charming. Drop-dead-gorgeous though. He stalked – believe me, he did not walk – over to a seat in the front and practically threw himself down. The lesson dragged on forever, the teacher didn't even acknowledge my addition to the class, and the second we finished I rushed out of my seat to catch up to the infamous Jackson.

"Hey, excuse me, wait up!" I called after him, and he turned just as he unfolded a pair of expensive sunglasses. He already reached his car, the aforementioned Porsche. When I caught up to him, he sighed and looked me up and down. Okay, I felt violated somehow. I shook it off, now was not the time to be awkward.

"Maybe," he said just as I prepared a speech on exactly why I should be given Lydia's phone number without coming of as a weirdo. "In a dress and if you did something about that hair."

"So you – _what?" _

He raised his eyebrows, as if to say '_Are we done?'_.

"What? Dress? _What?_" I started, but waved my hands about to change the subject. "Never mind, I need Lydia's phone number. You are Jackson, right? Lydia's boyfriend? I'm-"

"Whoa, I am _not_ Lydia's boyfriend," he clarified, throwing his hands up. "Ex-boyfriend is the term. And if she sent you, you can tell her there's a bigger chance of Danny getting freaky with a girl than us getting back together again."

Okay, this was not going so good. "Um, first of all, who's Danny? And second, if Lydia sent me, why would I need her phone number?"

"Look, I got better things to do. Who are you again?" he said, reaching into his leather jacket to retrieve a pen. He walked around with a pen in his inner pocket? Someone is a diva...

"I-I'm Lydia's cousin," I stuttered as he grabbed my arm and pushed Stiles' sleeve up to write on my wrist. Solid, readable digits – hopefully the right number.

"And Lydia's cousins don't have names?" he taunted; capping his pen and stuffing it back into his jacket.

"It's – it's Cassie," I said, taken aback with his abrupt change in personality. He smirked, like, really smirked and leaned in.

"Here's a tip, new girl. Introducing yourself as Lydia's cousin might not be the smartest move right now, social status vise. When the whole ordeal with crazy aunt Kate blows over, Lydia's going to be the subject for discussion, and trust me, it won't be pretty."

He laughed in my face without humor, and grabbed a bag out of his car before stalking back into the school. Why would he go ba – ah, yes, lacrosse. He was co-captain, apparently. I walked around a bit and found my way to the bleachers Stiles mentioned. There were a few girls there, some reading, but most chatting to each other about the players or the upcoming game. My heart stopped. The field. This was the field I saw Lydia on, this was where someone attacked her.

I hardly felt sitting down onto an empty bench, keeping my gaze fixed on the exact spot she'd been laying. There was a small-sized patch of dead grass, hardly noticeable if you didn't look specifically for it. I really needed to talk to her about this.

Players started to fill in on the field, led by the Economics teacher – Finstock – and I recognized Jackson as well as Stiles' friend from earlier being given instructions. Other players included Stiles, Jackson's tan friend from Chemistry, Gravedigger Boy, who gave a miniscule nod in my direction, causing an eruption of butterflies somewhere in my stomach area and…those were the only ones I recognized. Possibly number 8 was in my Bio class.

I tried to follow their practice, see if I actually understood something, but realized the warm-ups were pretty much generic. I took out my phone instead and typed in the number Jackson scribbled on my arm. Should I call? Text? Leave a voice mail? I was pretty socially backwards to start with and I don't think there's any protocol to follow when contacting your ten-year-lost cousin who spent the preceding week either in a coma or out in the woods.

'Hi, is this Lydia?' I wrote, sending it before I could change my mind. A few minutes went by that I spent sneaking glances at number 14, the name Lahey on his back.

'Yes, who's this?'

_What do I write next?_ I wonder if Stiles saw me as this total Lydia-stalker-freak, because that's what I'd been feeling like for the last days. It's just this connection thing, I can't explain it.

I typed, 'Cassandra. How are you feeling?'

The next reply came almost instantaneously.

'Still in hospital, mom's making me do more tests.'

My fingers were frozen over the touch screen. How could I do this without creeping her out? I frowned when the phone buzzed again.

'We need to talk.'

Okay, cryptic much, Lydia? I asked her for time and place and we settled the details. I'd come over to her tomorrow night – her mom would be out on some charity auction and she would positively be out of a hospital gown by then. Waiting until tomorrow seemed like forever, there were so many things I needed to ask her. _Let her heal first_. I put my phone back into my pocket. _And hope she remembers anything_.

So this was Lacrosse, huh? The players wore really tough-looking protection and carried sticks of various lengths with a pocket on the end. It was like a mix of hockey, football and basketball. And not without - I flinched when 37 tackled 11 pretty hard - a little bit of violence.

Practice ended and I waited for Stiles by his jeep. Time ticked by, and I started to think he'd forgotten all about me, until he emerged from the locker rooms with his friend from earlier.

"Scott, Cassie," Stiles said, devoid of any emotion. "Cassie, Scott." I suppose this was his version of an introduction, and Scott smiled – my heart skipped a beat, gorgeous smile – before extending a hand. I shook it, hoping my palms weren't clammy and-

Scott, still with my hand in his, leaned forward and _sniffed_ me. Like, really trying to soak up as much of my odor as possible with his nose. I didn't even wear perfume! Oh gods, was it B.O? The Sheriff had provided me with a deodorant, but it hadn't been the kind I usually wore and maybe I'd gone all day smelling like the bottom of a gym bag without anyone telling me and…

I nearly missed the microscopic headshake Scott directed towards Stiles. I snatched my hand back out of his grip. "Did you just sniff me?" I asked, putting my arms across my body.

"Uh, yeah – he has allergies," Stiles blurted out, almost diving between us. "Real bad, allergies, yeah. Uh-huh."

"Allergic to what exactly?" I asked, inching my way back to the jeep. Figures that Stiles' friend would be as weird as he was.

Scott hesitated only a fraction before, "Emm, cigarette smoke! Yeah, I tried to smell if you smelled like cigarettes, because then I can't get in the car with you, my eyes they swell and…"

"Run and..." Stiles provided.

"And itch, yeah, real painful," Scott finished.

I looked from Tweedledum to Tweedledee, raising my eyebrows. I let this one slide. "You could have just asked," I mumbled, pushing back the passenger seat so I could crawl in the back. In the side-mirror, Scott and Stiles gave each other a silent high-five.

"So, Stiles told me you haven't seen Lydia for a while," Scott said after we'd been on the road for ten minutes without conversation. Stiles seethed in the driver's seat, occasionally exchanging looks with Scott.

"Yeah, almost ten years," I said back over the roar of the engine. The back seat was cramped and I felt lucky being shorter than average for the first time in my life. 5 ft 4 in, not exactly supermodel material – Sabrina got all the height in the family.

"What?" Scott said, cupping his hand behind his ear.

"Almost ten years," I said a little louder, leaning forward so I spoke directly into his ears. Oh boy, I should have sniffed _him_, he smelled good.

"Can you say it again? A little slower?"

"I haven't seen Lydia for almost ten years," I spelled out, wrinkling my eyebrows as Scott gave a small nod to Stiles. Apparently I passed some sort of test.

"And you're her cousin, right?" Scott asked now. What's with all these questions it was obvious Stiles already told him the answers to?

"Yeah, on her mother's side," I said, still leaning forward so I wouldn't have to shout anymore.

"Come again?"

How bad was his hearing? "Are you serious? My mom and her mom are sisters," I said, exaggerating my pronunciation of each word. Again, Scott nodded to Stiles! _What. On. Earth? _

I looked back and forth between the two dumbasses. I couldn't believe I'd been nervous around them at first, they were even more socially awkward than me.

"And what brings you back to Beacon Hills?"

Really? That's all we're going to talk about now, with still another fifteen-minute drive ahead of us. I don't get why Scott even tagged along.

"Lydia." I gave a one-word answer, and Scott didn't ask me to repeat it.

"What about her?" Stiles decided to join the thrilling conversation.

I bit my lip, wondering how I should say it. We have a code, of some sort, and I try to avoid telling blatant lies for the most part. Sometimes it was necessary however. Now, I just decided on a modified truth. "I heard about her attack and figured it was time to bury the hatchet. Someone shouldn't have to die before we realize our mistakes. Family's important."

Scott's neck muscles tightened and don't ask me why I noticed. It wasn't like I had been admiring them, not at all.

"Can you say that first part again, I didn't catch it." Scott's voice sounded different, darker.

"When Lydia got hurt, I-"

"No, exactly the way you said it before," he ordered and there was something about his tone that warned me about disobeying.

"I heard about her attack," I started, now glancing nervously between them. "And figured it was time to bury the hatchet." It dawned upon me that there was a slim chance I was in a car with two serial killers out in the middle of a forest. "Someone shouldn't have to die before we realize our mistakes." My pulse rose, palms got slick. "Family's important."

"The first line, one more time."

Stiles now gave Scott a confused look, but quickly switched it back to the road. I tried to retreat unnoticeably backwards in the seat, away from Scott.

"Slow," Scott said, and there was practically a growl on the edge of his voice.

"I." Thank gods, I could see the glimpse of my gray Honda through the trees. "Heard." Just around the next bend, come on. "About." Please stop the car, Stiles, please. "Her." Oh crap, I was in the back, one of them had to get out before I did. Otherwise I'd have to crawl over them. "Attack."

The jeep slowed down to a full stop. I pushed on Stiles' seat.

"Stiles, please move."

He didn't answer, but gave his friend a worried look, before glancing at me. Why didn't he move?

"Stiles, please. I have to get out."

It was like he was waiting for Scott's approval. Was Scott the killer? And Stiles just his accomplice? I glanced at Scott, whose neck muscles tightened even further. I could hear my heartbeat thundering.

"_Please_! Let me out!"

"Alright, alright!" Stiles unbuckled in record speed, jumped out and I nearly fell out of the jeep.

I gasped in a huge breath of air, making a beeline to my car and fumbling with the keys, taking worried looks over my shoulder. Stiles leaned back into his jeep and had a rapid conversation with Scott. Scott looked directly at me and I swear to all things sacred his eyes flashed yellow.

"Oh Mother," I prayed. Finally, the right key and I yanked the door open and slammed it shut. At the harsh sound, Scott shook himself, almost like he came out of a trance. Even from this distance, I saw his face turn into a worried look. Stiles followed his gaze, and asked Scott something.

I plunged the key into ignition, willing myself to control my foot so I didn't choke the engine when pushing in the clutch-pedal.

"Cassie, wait!" Scott came out of the car, coming towards me. "Wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

The Honda, while not as powerful as the jeep, started up with a roar and I made the sharpest U-turn of my life to get out of there. In the rear view mirror I saw Scott throw his arms out in apology, while Stiles seemed pissed off at him. Behind them, fragments of police tape fluttered in the wind.

* * *

><p><em>AN: _Longest chapter so far! Hope you enjoyed reading it. Even though the reviewing has been a bit lackluster, I love every one of you who put this story on your favorite-list or follows it. Lots of love to you guys! It seems like there's a good deal of people reading this, so I hope that trend continues.

If you have some feedback or encouragement or criticism, **please** **review! **I may not be able to update so frequently for the next weeks - final exams are coming up, first one on Monday! - but notifications in my inbox will probably persuade me to update sooner :)

Until next time!


	5. Paperdoll

_Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to Teen Wolf nor its characters. This piece of fiction is created purely out of love for the show and no profit will be made._

**An Ye Harm None**

**Chapter 5 – Paperdoll**

It took me several large, calming breaths before I started paying attention to my driving. Luckily traffic was sparse so deep into the woods. My hands shook on the steering wheel. Why did I feel like I just survived a life-threatening situation? Every instinct in my body told me to get the hell out of there when Scott's voice changed like that. I wish I had someone to call, someone who knew about these sort of things. I thought about Sabrina, but dismissed it. She still hadn't called me back – let her live her jetsetter-life in Europe for now, free of all responsibilities.

I took three (three!) unnecessary rounds in town before I felt safe enough that they hadn't followed me. Of course, if they wanted to, the location of the Blair House wasn't exactly a well-kept secret. I wonder if the Sheriff knew his son hung out with a _serial killer! _And Scott who looked so sweet too.

I stopped at a generic supermarket, the rational side of me insisting that I couldn't survive on school lunches alone. The fluorescent light and the disapproving scowl of a housewife after I flinched into the breakfast cereal display took the edge off my fear. Maybe, just maybe Scott's glowing eyes had been a trick of the light or just a projection of my panic. Or maybe he was possessed, who knew? I mean, I didn't exactly believe in coincidences, but I've never even heard of glowing eyes before either. It must have been that, just-

"Hey."

I jumped visibly, knocking over a row of shampoo bottles, obviously not totally relaxed yet. "For Frigg's sake! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Hastily, I tried to straighten out the mess I made. Oh, it was – it was Gravedigger Boy. Lahey. Number 14. Blue Eyes. As my heart didn't thump hard enough already. I tucked my hair behind my ears, trying to smile naturally.

"Sorry," he mumbled, scratching his neck. His black eye still looked swollen, but like it was healing at least. I noticed a fresh scratch on his chin though. He had bandages and gauze tape in his basket.

"N-no, it's okay," I apologized, feeling bad for freaking out on him. "Just…jumpy today, I guess."

"You did seem lost in your own thoughts," he admitted and flashed a small half-smile. My pulse quickened again, but for whole other reasons. He was a bit bent over, like he had a stomachache or something. I wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been so much taller than me and now I actually didn't look directly up his nose for a change.

"I was, sorry. Just…shampoo choices are hard, you know," I tried to make a joke, gesturing towards the bottles and nearly knocked down another row.

"I guess," he said, switching the basket to his other hand, a brief flash of discomfort on his face. "I heard they found Lydia, she okay?"

'_They_ found? _I_ found,' I wanted to say, but refrained. "I think so, she's still in the hospital and - Are you okay?"

He doubled over, wincing in pain. He used his left hand to cover his side, but I still saw it. Blood.

"Gods above and beyond, are you hurt?"

The crimson stain spread out on the greenish brown fabric and he made another grunt. "I'm fine," he said through his teeth. "Sorry, I need to go."

He pushed past me. I opened my mouth to call his name, but realized I didn't know it. Why didn't I know his first name? "Lahey?" I cried out instead, but he rounded the corner and disappeared from my sight. I shook myself out of it and rushed after him, but only saw his back when he checked out. With a last look over his shoulder, his face still twisted in pain, he left. With his bandages. What kind of guy goes to buy bandages for a serious stomach wound and stops to ask about my cousin? Seriously!

Apropos Lydia…Without actually seeing the wound I couldn't know for sure, but something told me that was the exact same injury Lydia had. But why wouldn't he go to the hospital? Or the police? I had no experience with healing, but even I could see he needed help, professional help.

Still lost in thought, I used the money Aunt Natalie gave me for the motel to pay for my groceries. I needed to get ahold of my sister so she could give me access to my saving's account, until then I wasn't exactly flush with cash. The Honda, may Gaia bless her, didn't get too many miles per gallon.

I parked the car the same place as yesterday, and went in by the open back door. It took me three trips, but I managed to get all my belongings inside the house instead of the car. Two bags of clothes, a sleeping bag, a box of keepsakes and the groceries. Oh, and let's not forget the schoolwork. Unbelievable; here I tried to solve some pretty mysterious murder cases and the teachers assigned us figuratively a ton of homework.

For the first time in a decade, I went upstairs in the Blair House, to the bedrooms and the library. I didn't go inside, doubt there would be anything left, but veered to the linen closet to retrieve a mattress and some pillows. I didn't want to disturb anything unnecessary, and kept all bedroom doors closed. I hauled everything downstairs to the tiny sitting room across the hall from the kitchen, and practically made a nest close to the fireplace. I knew who the bedrooms belonged to, and as I said, I didn't want to disturb anything unnecessary. I'd sleep in here.

Next to the kitchen, on the ground floor, there was a small bathroom, complete with an ancient bathtub, but no shower unfortunately. I'd make do. At least this place was built after flush toilets became a thing. The toothbrush Sheriff Stilinski bought me was still at their house, so I put my old one by the sink along with the rest of toiletries. I took a look at the mirror, went back to the kitchen and returned with some newly acquired cleaning equipment. Soon enough, I could actually discern my features in the bathroom mirror. For some reason, I kept comparing myself to Lydia. We were the _exact _same age, after all. I was born literally less than four hours after her, in the same hospital, back when the Martins still lived in San Francisco. If you asked me, I'd say our mothers planned it.

My face was narrower than hers, but with the same high cheekbones. Her eyes were larger, although our lips looked the same. I had a heavy spread of freckles across my nose, spreading down to my chin. She didn't even have a birthmark on her. Grey eyes, green eyes. You could tell we were related, but we weren't twins, not even sisters.

_Still family. _I watched my reflection morph into Lydia's and gasped when black blood ran from her eyes – my eyes? Her hair, a flaming red mane of fire, burned her skin, but she didn't care. She blinked, covering her lashes in the black blood, and whispered, "_You died_."

She was gone. I blinked several times, half expecting the sink to be stained black, but nothing. I shook it off, too much stress the last days, still freaked out after Scott's behavior.

Normal. I needed normal now. Ramen cup noodles for dinner, and a whole problem set of Chemistry for dessert.

* * *

><p>Avoiding two particular teenage boys in a school with roughly 2,000 students should be easy enough, but not when one of the said boys was my 'locker buddy' and apparently keen on talking to me. Coming out from French, I saw Stiles at his locker, looking around every few seconds. Crap, my Chemistry-notebook was in my locker. Okay, I'll just ignore him.<p>

Steeling my shoulders, I cut a straight path through the current of high school students and decisively failed to look at Stiles. I was already in a foul mood – Lahey hadn't shown up for class and that got a small seed of worry nagging in my stomach.

Stiles closed his locker and leaned on it sideways with a wide grin.

"So, how-" he started, but I cut him off by opening my locker in his face. I exchanged my schoolbooks, but he was still there when I closed the door again.

"Chemistry, right?" he said, following on my heel down the hall. I clutched my books tighter to my chest, wondering if he would try to trick me out into the woods again. "So, what'd you get for question four? Because I really…"

I tuned him out. Someone cut me off in front of the classroom door and now I stared right into the totally-not-glowing eyes of Scott McCall.

"Cassie, listen, I'm really…" He paused, tilting his head in confusion, like he listened to something. I swear on all things sacred I didn't move a facial muscle when I saw him, not letting him get the satisfaction of my fear, but couldn't help my heartbeat rising to a roar in my ears. Lifting his hands and letting me past him, he said, "Sorry, I'll back off."

My body practically went into fight-or-flight mode, but calmed slightly when he retreated. I tried not to look at him as I entered the classroom, choosing the same seat Mr. Harris indicated the first time. Another odd encounter with Scott McCall, not as scary this time but still worrying. Behind me, a fierce whispering argument broke out between the two boys, too low for me to hear.

It only took a few minutes for the entire classroom to fill up, and this time the frizzy-haired girl from AP Calculus and French sat next to me. She didn't seem overly interested in conversation, which was lucky because Scott kept whispering my name. I swallowed thickly; they were right behind me.

"_Cassie!" _he hissed again, and I saw Mr. Harris' ears perk up. "_Cassie_!"

"McCall, this will be your first and final warning," Mr. Harris' snake-voice sounded, his back still turned to write on the blackboard. "Once more and you get to join me for lunch detention."

Mr. Harris gave me a look, silently appraising me for staying silent.

_Light of eye, and soft of touch_

_Speak you little, listen much._

No more whispers.

* * *

><p>"Cassie, wait up!" Stiles came propelling down the hallway after me, smacking into a pair of freshmen with a "Sorry!"<p>

I didn't see Scott anywhere, so I paused for a second to see if he had anything useful to say. The school day was over, so everyone else was busy filing out of the main doors to enjoy their Thursday evenings. I checked my phone, I'd made a deal with Lydia to be at her house in half an hour.

Stiles took a deep breath, laughing awkwardly when letting it out again. "Hi, Cassie," he said, nodding to himself. I started to suspect he was on some sort of medication – I had never met anyone who moved so much.

"Scott says he's sorry," said Stiles, still grinning uncomfortably.

"For what? Asking me creepy questions or acting like a complete serial killer?" I snapped, putting both hands on my hips. Stiles' mouth opened and closed a few times.

"Both, maybe?" he tried, gauging my reaction. I raised my eyebrow as far as it went, and he backpedalled, "Or- or maybe just the questions thing. Yeah, definitely, just the questions thing."

"What's going on, Stiles?"

"Nothing, nothing's going on," Stiles said, very unconvincingly. "We just realized we might have acted a bit…"

"Homicidal maniac," I provided.

"Homicidal maniac, sure," he agreed and nodded his head. "We never meant to scare you."

He talked as if they were an inseparable unit, but why was he alone her- I caught a glimpse of shaggy brown hair disappearing behind the corner. Scott lurked in the shadows, go figures. Nothing creepy about that.

"I got to go," I said finally, turning on my booted heel. "I'm seeing Lydia today."

* * *

><p>"You didn't wear that to school today, did you?"<p>

I kid you not, these were the first words she spoke when I rang the doorbell and she let me inside. Her tiny dog, Prada, sniffed around my feet, but lost interest fairly quickly.

"Uuh," I was unsure how to answer that. I glanced down at my dark jeans and plaid shirt. I'd literally worn school uniforms most of my life; Sabrina was the fashion junkie of the family. Lydia turned around with a sigh, looking thoroughly sorry for me.

"You did, didn't you? Oh well, we're just going to have to fix that."

The two of us walked through her impressive home, filled to the brim with modern art and sleek furniture, and into her pink – and I mean _pink_ – room. There were butterflies decorations over her bed. I kept getting surprised by the Martin women, to date not a single encounter had gone as I envisioned.

"Sit," she said in a commanding tone. I lowered myself to her bed and watched her open a large closet with clothes in all the rainbow's colors hanging inside. I mean it, it was color coordinated and followed the rainbow pattern. "Hmm. How do you feel about playsuits?"

"Nothing, I have literally no idea what that is," I answered truthfully, studying the picture frames on her nightstand while holding onto my pendant for support. One with her mom and one with a pretty, alabaster-skinned brunette I recognized from school. It disturbed me how normal this felt. But still, ten years!

"I was thinking this," she held up some ridiculous floral dungarees, "paired with some white tights and maybe a pair of blue heels? I feel blue is definitely the right-"

"Lydia!" I interrupted her fluttering about the room. "What the hell?"

"What?" she asked innocently, turning back to the jewelry collection she browsed.

"Lydia, I have _literally_ not seen you in _ten frickin' years!_" I felt like I was bursting with unanswered questions and this whole town was just a bad episode of the Twilight Zone.

"And?" came her disinterested voice, she didn't even bother to turn around.

"And? _And?_ Are you kidding me right now? What, are we just going to pretend nothing ever happened and pick up where we left of? Which, by the way, I think was in your neighbor's sandbox tricking him to eat worms." I stood up and marched over to stand next to her in the mirror. "What happened to you?"

"I grew up, Cassie," she said, stroking her hair down over her shoulder. "People do."

"No, I mean, the attack, the wandering about in the woods," I tried to demonstrate with my arms the immensity of it all. I didn't dare mention her ominous words of my death, in case she didn't remember. Lydia rolled her eyes.

"As I have already told the police a _million_ times," she growled as we both sat on the bed. "I don't remember. Anything. I was at the Winter Formal, went looking for Jackson at the lacrosse field and next thing I know, I wake up in an ambulance with you of all people."

Jackson – the boy who bled black. Was he the culprit, not Stiles?

"You don't remember anything between? Not even waking up in the hospital?" _Or telling me you dreamt of my death?_ She shook her head, pursing her full lips.

"The doctors called it a fugue state," she said, with another roll of her eyes. "It's a dissociative disorder, basically just a short-lived amnesia episode. They have no idea what happened to me." She smiled and straightened up. "I don't care, I lost nine pounds!"

"B-but what about the attack," I blurted out before she could return to the closet. "I saw you in the forest, Lyds, naked. There wasn't a scratch on you."

"The doctors couldn't explain that either," she said and shrugged. "I was having allergic reactions at the hospital, went for a walk in the woods and was all healed up when I got back. Maybe I found a healing pond?"

With that witty remark, Lydia got up and continued picking out my outfit for her 'big return' tomorrow. I could only assume she had hers all set out.

"So how do you like Beacon Hills High so far?" she asked. We'd moved on to my hair now, apparently it was in 'desperate need' for a cure. She gave me the stink eye when I asked 'a cure for what?' Her fingers kept rubbing some shiny goo in my hair – it smelled nice at least.

"Uh, it's okay, I guess. Haven't really thought about it much, I mean, I was more concerned with you."

"Hm. Well, I personally think it's great that the whole family feud is over. I mean, what's the point of having a supermodel cousin if you can't talk about her?"

Sabrina. I realized that Lydia had grown up to be the slightly shorter version of my older sister. The fashionista, the socialite, the overachiever. No wonder there hadn't been a popular girl to bully me my first day at school, she'd been too busy wandering around naked in the forest.

While my hair soaked up all the much-needed nutrients of the _cure_, we slathered green mud onto our faces. I thought these things were a myth from romantic comedies and girls' magazines. It soon stiffened and my face felt tight and itchy.

"So," she said slyly, leaning back in her armchair. "Have you seen any cute boys?"

I kept wondering exactly what Aunt Natalie had told Lydia about us, but I doubted the whole education system had ever been brought up. Could I really tell the most popular girl in school that her own cousin had been subject of home schooling? I probably had to, how else would I explain my awkward behavior?

As luck would have it, the increasingly uncomfortable facemask covered up any signs of a blush. "Nah, not really. Maybe a few that were okay, but…"

Lydia gasped in outrage, "Listen to you, Miss High-Standards. What, are the boys on the east coast so much better than our Californian hotties?"

I looked at her, sitting in her bathrobe with her mud-covered face and freshly painted nails. She wanted to have a normal conversation, about boys, and school and probably not any sadistic murders that took place right outside her front door. I could give her that, for today at least.

Unfortunately, she caught on the second I tried to innocently ask about Lahey's first name.

"Isaac Lahey?" she laughed. Damn it, I thought I'd been sneaky, tying it in a conversation about lacrosse. "Cassie, I don't mean to be the crusher of any dreams, but…let's just say that they live right across the street from Jackson. Of course, he never told me anything specific, but always went on how they were total _freaks_. "

My stomach dropped a bit. Not because Isaac apparently was odd, but because of Lydia's response to it. I wonder what Jackson could possibly have seen to label them such. Sure, Isaac seemed a bit quiet and working on a graveyard didn't exactly score you any points in high school, but…

"What about Stiles?" I asked innocently, interrupting her monologue about the other guys on the lacrosse team. I didn't get his connection with her.

"What about Stiles? I went to Winter Formal with him, as a favor to Allison – have you met her yet? Oh, you're gonna love her." She caught my look, made comical by the stupid facemask. "Shut up, he's kind of sweet and that's about it."

Well, _that_ certainly answered a lot of questions. _Not_.

* * *

><p>The next morning, clad in Lydia's outfit idea, I got to meet Alison Argent. And yes, Argent as in Kate Argent as in psycho serial killer who possibly attacked Lydia.<p>

"I love your dress," she said with a smile and I looked down on the navy skater dress Lydia ended up picking for me. I let her play dress up just this once, tomorrow I returned to my jeans.

"Of course you do, it's one of mine," the girl herself said and applied a fresh coat of lipstick. She made me come over before school to 'get ready' and I got to watch her put on her war paint like a samurai preparing for battle. She wore a dress I was quite certain Grandaunt Hester would have some choice words about, but looked flawless. Standing in front of the main doors, I kept thinking back to Jackson's ominous warning about Lydia being the next object of gossip and slander.

Lydia explained the fugue state to Allison, and as with me she ended it with a bright, "I lost nine pounds!"

Allison still looked concerned. "Are you ready for this?"

"Please," Lydia said with a smile. "It's not like my aunt's a serial killer."

My jaw dropped. There was no way she just said that. No freaking way. Allison's face was stuck in a surprised expression and she mouthed 'wow'. Lydia pushed the doors open and we went inside. And I actually backed out again, breathing heavily. The entire entrance hall had frozen, stopping only to stare at us – well, at Lydia really, but I felt caught in the crossfire. How could she just brush that off? It was like their stares held weight, crushing me down into the floor. I leaned back against the wall next to the doors, wondering how long I would wait before I could enter safely.

That's odd. There were police cars by the lacrosse field. I straightened up, squinting my eyes at the maroon blobs running and crashing into each other. So far, my whole suspect list played on the lacrosse team. What was going on? I needed to get a closer look and by Gaia's blessing, these heels were a nightmare to walk on. I made it to the bleachers just in time to see the Sheriff haul number 14 off the field. Lahey. Isaac.

By now, the police presence attracted a crowd of curious high school students and I stood on the sidelines. They didn't put him in handcuffs or anything, but Isaac stood alone in the middle of three cops, obviously the subject of questioning. The Sheriff put a hand on his shoulder and they walked of in the direction of the police cars.

The Wonder Twins – Scott and Stiles – watched the entire thing intently, whispering to each other. They seemed worried. Was Isaac a part of this too? That made practically the whole lacrosse team.

"They say his father was murdered," a girl's voice came from beside me. Oh look, the gossipy locker buddy. "Just last night, at the warehouse district."

"And they're arresting Isaac?" I asked and she shrugged.

"Obviously."

I didn't get to ask anything else, because the bell rang and I got caught in the current of students trying to get back to the main building in time. In Chemistry, Stiles made the incredibly bad judgment call of throwing a piece of paper at Mr. Harris. It ended in both of them being sent to the principal's office. I looked around the class, clutching the crystal pendant out of habit. Who was missing? Isaac, obviously, and now Scott and Stiles and…Jackson.

Biting my lip, I glanced at the boy I now just thought of as Jackson's friend. I sat with Lydia and Allison now, not at the seat in the front, but when Mr. Harris turned back to the blackboard I darted over to the empty seat Jackson usually occupied.

"_Cassie_?" Lydia hissed, but didn't say anything else.

"Hi," I whispered to the stupidly attractive boy in front of me. He raised his eyebrows. Okay, so maybe the middle of a Chemistry class wasn't the best time for conversations, but this was important. "I'm Cassie."

"I know, Lydia's cousin?" he said and I nodded enthusiastically. "I'm Danny."

Aha, so this was Danny! Gotcha. "Hey, where's Jackson?"

Danny sat up and rolled his eyes. "What is with everyone today? He's at the principal's office, talking to the police."

That made sense, Lydia said just last night that Jackson and the Laheys were neighbors. And that explained why Scott and Stiles had themselves sent to the principal's office. But why? From what I could tell, they didn't exactly frequent the same social circles, maybe except lacrosse. Could I get myself sent to the principal's office?

Too late, Jackson just stalked through the door. He repeated his behavior from the other day, looking me up and down with a smirk on his lips. "Better, but the whole desperation thing is kind of a turn-off."

Lydia straightened up in her seat, pretending very hard not to be listening in on us. I just furrowed my brows and said, "What? What are you talking about?"

He put one hand on the desk and leaned in close. "You're in my seat."

Highly disturbed by his ever-growing smirk, I leaned back as far as I could to get out of his chair and returned to my seat next to Lydia. Honestly, she went out with this douchebag? Ugh. Still, he had answers to some questions I wanted to ask. I had to finish this equation first however. And for some reason Lydia wouldn't let me look at her answers.

* * *

><p>Lydia beat me to it, cornering Jackson at his locker after class. Could it be she had been on the same trail as me and that's what got her attacked? No, I decided after hearing parts of the conversation. She just thanked him for saving her life, and the douchebag acted like a total douchebag about it. With a cryptic message about the full moon, he walked off and Lydia just shook her head before heading to her own locker. I was torn between a wish to comfort Lydia and to get some proper answers, and Jackson nearly walked right into me.<p>

"Hey, I have some questions for you," I said, walking backwards down the hall so I could look him in the eyes. His smirk grew to cover half his face.

"Forty-two inches," he said and stopped to take in my dropped jaw. "My lacrosse stick."

In Mother's name, what was wrong with this guy?

"Oh, right, sure. But that's not what I wanted to ask you."

"Seven inches."

I didn't fall for it this time. "What, your hubcaps or something? No, listen," I dropped my voice to a hushed whisper, "What did you tell the police? About Isaac?"

Jackson scoffed and kept walking. "Nothing, just that Mr. Lahey used to beat the crap out of him."

Seriously? Seriously, Lydia used to _date _this guy? A flood of different emotions welled up. Mr. Lahey gave Isaac that black eye? Mr. Lahey cut open his son's stomach like that and made him go to the store to buy his own bandages? I tried to be careful upon proclaiming who deserved death and who didn't, but this time I honestly felt Mr. Lahey had it coming.

Still… Isaac? I had serious trouble imagining him hurting anyone, let alone his father, no matter how abusive. And how did this concern Scott and Stiles enough that they risked detention to find out about it? I looked at my phone; AP Calculus was my final subject for the day, and Lydia would be waiting for me, but…I had to get to that crime scene.

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

Thank you so much for reading! Finally, Christmas break is here so I hope I can post some more chapters over the holiday. But, guys, I really appreciate (and LOVE) absolutely everyone who favorited and/or followed my story, means the world to me, but _please please pretty please_ leave a short review because it just makes my day and gives me that extra boost to write even more! Just a short confirmation that someone read my story and thought _something_ about it, that's all I want for Christmas this year. So, please? _Review!_

_HAPPY HOLIDAYS! _


	6. Luna-tic

_Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to Teen Wolf nor its characters. This piece of fiction is created purely out of love for the show and no profit will be made._

**An Ye Harm None**

**Chapter 6 – Luna-tic**

I rushed out of the school building just in time to see Scott get into a sleek black car that sped off. So I'm not the only one skipping school? The police cars were gone as well; they got what they came for.

Driving my Honda, I tried to sort out what I knew so far. It was frustratingly little, but it was pretty obvious that the deceased Kate Argent couldn't still be responsible for the string of attacks and murders here at Beacon Hills. So who was? Okay, so technically, the grave robbing didn't actually qualify as an assault, but it must've happened with Isaac nearby. What if he saw something he shouldn't have? And now his father was murdered as a threat? By who? There were only two people at the school besides from me who seemed to care that Isaac was arrested: Scott and Stiles.

'Are you seriously skipping class right now?' Lydia texted me, but I put it on silent. Maybe if I found some answers, I could try to explain later. Now, I needed to find the warehouse district.

After driving around for twenty minutes, I realized the warehouse district was a lot bigger than expected and there were no revealing police lights or signs to say where Mr. Lahey was murdered yesterday. I parked my car outside a diner and checked online to see if anything was mentioned in the newspapers, but they were no more specific than the girl had been at school. I didn't exactly have the ability to sniff out death either.

_Zig Zag Diner_, the sign said in red neon letters. What the hell, I thought and got out of the car. Everyone knew town gossip was the easiest way to get information. And maybe I'd get something to eat while at it.

Still in the early afternoon, there weren't too many people inside. A few elderly nursing their coffees and solving crosswords, and a family that just screamed 'tourist' from miles away. It was a real traditional American diner, complete with red leather seats and booths. The server, a stocky woman somewhere in her 30s, took one look at me as I walked up to the counter.

"Did you bring a resume and application?" she asked, and completely threw me off course on if I wanted coffee or a soda.

"What? No," I said with wide eyes. The woman nodded and continued rolling the cutlery into napkins.

"Any previous experience from serving? Restaurants, cafes, weddings even?"

"Um, no."

The woman – Janet, her nameplate said – stopped folding and crossed her arms over her chest. "How old are you, kid?"

"Sixteen," I said. "Seventeen in March."

"Still in school?"

"Yeah." _Just not right now. _

"Okay, tell you what: Come over here tomorrow at six and we'll see how you manage." That was the end of the conversation as she moved to serve another guest.

Did I just get a job?

It would be so weird ordering anything now, so I sidled back to the exit.

"Horrible business. They say there was blood everywhere, you know."

Jackpot. I tried to lean casually against the booth, listening in on the gossipy townspeople.

"Soon I won't feel safe stepping out after dark in this town. If they got to the school's old swim coach, he had neck like a bull that Lahey, imagine what they'd do to an old geezer like me? And inside his car too? _Humph_. It's still up there you know, there wasn't a tow car available last night, so they just sealed it off and left an officer to stand watch. I had the Missus go out with a cup of coffee for that poor fellow, he's been standing on the corner of fifth and Washington for-"

I didn't bother with my car, but plotted it in on my phone's GPS. Two minute walk from here. I saw the officer in question, he was leaning against a brick building and yawned every few seconds. They sealed off the alleyway behind with police tape, but I'd have no trouble sneaking over. Of course, the actual body wouldn't be there anymore, but that didn't mean I couldn't learn a few things about the murder. Some things tended to linger. Crouching down in my ridiculous impractical dress, I waited for Officer Sleepy to yawn widely again and snuck behind him and into the crime scene.

Last night, there'd been a rainstorm and instead of washing the blood away, the rain thinned it out and now it gave the asphalt a red sheen. The inside of the car was untouched though and if I thought the ambulance was bad…you tend to forget just how much blood we pumped around in our bodies every day until it was let out. The door on the driver side was wrenched open by force, the hinges bent all out of shape. Someone really wanted to get at Mr. Lahey. And judging by the blood-covered interior and ripped holstering, they did.

I nearly stepped on the thin spectacles on the ground, but withdrew my foot before I actually destroyed police evidence. Those were Mr. Lahey's. I looked back and forth and measured the distance. They were several feet from the car. He'd been out here, then. For what? I only knew that the Laheys lived across the street from Jackson, but by the state of his car and wardrobe, Jackson resided in a slightly more upper-class area than this. Why had Mr. Lahey gone out at night to drive across town to this alley?

The bike nearly made my lungs burst as I gasped. Isaac rode a bike like that. Someone had left it overturned on the ground, a few feet away from some dumpsters. Did Isaac lead Mr. Lahey here? Or did someone trick him into thinking his son had come here?

Maybe if I went back to the car I'd – I turned to walk right into something. _Oh crap. _The something turned out to be the Sheriff and he looked furious.

"Just what the _hell_ do you think you're playing at?" he said and dragged me by the forearm. "What is with you kids today? I could have you arrested for trespassing!" He took me to his car, barking orders to his deputies, and opened the passenger door. "Get in."

* * *

><p>Sheriff Stilinski brought me to the Sheriff's station. He ordered the female officer managing the desk that I was not to leave until a legal guardian picked me up. At least I convinced him that calling Mrs. Martin was out of the question. They didn't actually handcuff me, but I was to sit in the back and keep my mouth shut unless spoken to. The Sheriff questioned me in the car, wondering what the hell I was doing at the crime scene of Mr. Lahey and that I couldn't exactly use Lydia as an excuse anymore and by gods, did the police tape mean absolutely nothing to kids today?<p>

The deputy was nice enough; she gave me a cup of weak coffee and a magazine and went back to her Sudoku. Apparently all the officers were out, because it was just she and I and this one lady who came in to report her missing cat. After two hours, judging from the clock on the wall, it dawned on me that Isaac was probably somewhere around here. I mean, they wouldn't take him to prison right away, would they? Honestly, I had no idea how these things worked, but wouldn't the sheriff's office have some holding cells or something?

"Still no answer," the deputy said from around the wall and hung up the phone again. Her apologetic face appeared from the corner and she shrugged. When asked, I gave her the phone numbers of my sister, my aunt Isadora, and even Aunt Belinda. I figured those were the three most likely to help me get out of trouble, but after trying several times, it became apparent none of them was available. I wondered if they screened their calls for phone numbers from the Beacon County area code. Oh well, the Sheriff couldn't hold me here all night, could he? I hadn't seen him since he dragged me from Mr. Lahey's murder scene.

The moon shone through the window. A cloudless night. Wait, hadn't Jackson said something to Lydia about the full moon tonight?

_When the moon rides at Her peak,_

_Then your heart's desire seek_

The quote came unwanted into mind; years of schooling didn't just disappear because you moved 2,000 miles away. Without thinking, my hand went up to play with the hematite crystal around my neck. Was it a sign? Or just another coincidence? My heart's desire, was that supposed to be Isaac? I didn't even know the guy and believe me, love at first sight was a tad too Disney for me.

I jumped at the clangs of metal coming from somewhere in the back. So the deputy and I weren't the only ones at the Sheriff's station after all. And now we definitely weren't – a Greek God just walked in. I'm not kidding, that man had to be the direct descendant to Eros, because hot damn. Hot damn! He wore a leather jacket and a green shirt, but you could actually see the ripples of his abdominal muscles under it. I scuttled back into the corner of my bench, so he wouldn't notice me staring at him like he was a piece of steak. Because I would love to sink my teeth into that.

"Good evening, how can I help…" I couldn't actually see the deputy, but heard her voice come from inside the back office and out. She finished in a slightly different tone, "…you."

I strained my neck to get a better look at the Greek God of Sex Appeal, as he had moved to the opposite side of the desk. From here I could only see his shoulder, but maybe if I scooted a little –

"Stiles?" I hissed and he gave me a panicked look from behind the entrance door. He shook his head violently, clearly telling me to shut the hell up. Stiles glared at the couple talking by the front desk, clearly having a pleasant and cringe-worthy conversation, before he sidled down the hallway to me. "The hell are you doing here?" I hissed, trying to keep a lookout in case the deputy heard me.

"Shhh!" Stiles waved his hands all over the place, casting suspicious glances to the corner. The deputy's flirty laugh drifted to us. "Just…_shut up_."

Stiles left me sitting there, going further down the hall and around the corner. I heard a set of doors open. The Sheriff's office? Maybe he was getting something for his dad? Yeah, right. A last look at the corner lest the deputy would suddenly appear, and I darted after him.

"What the hell are you doing?" I whispered harshly and he jumped. Again he waved his arms about, telling me with his body to shut up and go back where I came from. "_No_, what's going on?"

Stiles clearly struggled with what to do next, because he lifted and lowered his arms several times, looking over my shoulder the entire time. He was stressed and obviously in a hurry. "Fine," he said at last. "Just keep quiet."

I kept my mouth shut as Stiles punched some buttons on a small key safe on the wall. It opened and Stiles looked wide-eyed from his hand to the empty compartment inside. We both turned our heads at the sound of keys jingling. "Oh, nooo," Stiles moaned and broke into a run. I tried to follow, but seriously, what the hell was going on? Was he breaking Isaac out? Or stopping someone else do to it?

Shit! I lost Stiles! I skidded on the wet patch on the floor, leaving a dark red streak on the linoleum. Blood? My eyes traveled the corridor. Follow the breadcrumbs, Gretel. Or in this case, the morbid trail of blood.

"Stiles?" I tried to keep my voice down, but it came out in a loud whisper. What was this place, a maze? No answer, so I upped my pace after the blood stains. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, but I wasn't even sure what I was afraid of yet. Stiles' freaked out behavior affected me and I really wished I had something to defend myself with, other than sarcasm and car-keys.

I nearly leaped out of my skin when the fire alarm went off. A loud ringing erupted and red lights flashed all over the place. _Please, don't let it be an actual fire. It was not the day. _"STILES?" I now yelled, not giving a damn about who heard me. Where was he?

"Sti – oh gods!" I caught myself from actually stumbling over the boy, clutching the doorframe. Stiles was on the floor in front of a deputy and a torn open cell door. The deputy gave me a quick look, while I froze in the doorway. "Hi?"

A roar erupted and something smashed into the man, forcing him onto a desk. Stiles scrambled backwards into my legs, knocking me over so I sprawled beside him. The…_thing_ grabbed hold of the deputy again and threw him into the opposite wall. I was on my back, supporting myself on my elbows. Someone – Stiles – took hold of my shoulder and forced me into the corner with him at record-speed.

The monster gave another snarl, while the deputy tried to defend himself with a syringe of all things. I pushed myself so far into the wall as I could, with Stiles holding his arm out in front of me. Was he protecting me? The humanoid beast broke the deputy's arm with a powerful grip and smashed his head back into the wall. He would feel that tomorrow, I thought, but for now the man collapsed. I could barely breathe, and only heard the insistent ringing of the fire alarm drown out all other noises.

The Future Object of all my Fantasies walked in and smashed the syringe, leaving a dark colored stain behind. The fanged monster turned to him instead, and couldn't help but gasp. He had to get out of there, or else he was next to have his skull caved in by the brick wall!

"Oh no," I breathed, because my gasp had attracted attention. The creature's yellow eyes moved to us instead. "Oh no, no, no, no." I doubled my grip on Stiles' arm, not even realizing I grabbed him. I needed to do something, distract it, stop it, anything! Maybe I could-

Just as the monster lunged, Tall Dark and Handsome stepped in and roared so I had to cover my ears. Handsome's fangs were bared in a snarl, and the other one cowered over to the wall, trying to protect his body with his arm. Nothing sounded but our breathing, before the monster peeked out, his face covered in sweat. No yellow eyes, no distorted features and more importantly, no fangs. I knew that face. Isaac? That thing was Isaac? He shook, sending my Future Husband a terrified look.

Stiles took a deep breath beside me, but I couldn't bring myself to move. That thing had been Isaac all along?

"How did you do that?"

I flinched when Stiles spoke, my nerves still insanely tense, and looked from him to the Supermodel. Leather Jacket Hottie turned his head to look at us, and gave a pleased smirk. "I'm the Alpha." His eyes met mine and every trace of amusement was wiped off. "Who's she?"

"Uuuuh," Stiles started elegantly. "This is my cousin, who is not only blind, but also deaf. And mute. Yup, that's our…Rosita The modern Helen Keller."

Rosita? With my red hair and freckles he settles on _Rosita_? Mr. Scrumptious didn't seem to buy it any more than me, and his jawline flexed several times. It dawned on me that while the Isaac-looking-wilderbeast scared me senseless, this one sent him hiding in a corner. I tried to think straight, tried to focus on finding out what just happened, but every thought consisted of 'That was Isaac?' or 'Really, Isaac?' and or 'I wish he'd take of his shirt…', the latter one centered around the pissed of guy standing in the middle of the room. The Alpha.

"Oh gods, I know what you are!" I surprised myself by talking. I'd worked it out, for crying out loud, how obvious hadn't it been all along. My Dream Lover hesitated, his whole body betraying his anticipation. "You're vampires."

The silence that followed was so thick you could only barely hear Isaac's labored breaths. He wasn't a monster anymore, that scared boy in the corner was all Isaac.

_"__What?_" Good-Looking broke the magic with his exclamation.

"No, Cassie, they're werewolves." Stiles said tiredly while he pinched the bridge of his nose and slumped back to the wall.

"Stiles!" Dracula bellowed.

"Are you sure? Because, the whole fangs and glowing eyes thing? Very vampire-ish," I said conversationally. The adrenaline was leaving slowly and left only the giddiness you got afterwards. "I mean, look at him. He's got a very Edward Cullen-thing going on."

"Uh, my best friend is a werewolf, I'm pretty sure I'm sure."

"_Scott_ is a werewolf?"

"Stiles!"

"What, Derek? What?" Stiles snapped to the alleged Alpha-werewolf. "She's already seen everything, what do you want me to do? I don't think the usual 'mountain lion'-ruse is gonna work this time, do you?"

Derek's jaw worked overtime, and his eyes moved between us and the other werewolf in the room. Distantly, sirens moved steadily our way. "Just make sure she keeps her mouth shut," he practically snarled. "Isaac, come on!"

I met Isaac's blue, not yellow at all, eyes and he lowered his head when following Derek out. Werewolves, huh? Sabrina was going to kill me.

"Stiles," I asked, feeling out of breath though I hadn't moved the last ten minuets.

"Yeah?"

"What do we do about him?" I used my foot to indicate the unconscious deputy by the wall. I had no idea what his role was in this mess, but realized there was a time and place for questions, and this was not it.

Stiles' head lolled to the side to get a better look. He took a deep breath and said, "Blame him."

* * *

><p>"So, hang on, Lydia was bit by a <em>werewolf<em>?" I sat cross-legged in the Sunflower Room with Stiles lounging against the dresser.

"Yup," he said with a nod. "The Alpha."

"_Bit _by a werewolf?"

He nodded again.

"_Lydia _was bit – wait, whoa. Won't that make _her_ a werewolf?" I asked, ice moving through my veins. My cousin was a werewolf. A werewolf! Sabrina was going to _kill _me!

"Well, that's the thing, right? She didn't turn," Stiles said and threw out his arm in a hopeless gesture. I was still contemplating ways of persuading Sabrina into thinking this may not have been all my fault, so I nearly lost the meaning behind his words.

_Speak you little, listen much_

"Why?" I asked cautiously. Stiles shrugged again. After the disastrous explanation to Sheriff Stilinski, ending in a shouted order to take both of our butts back to their house before we could interfere more on his ongoing investigation, Stiles spent the last hour filling me in on the Beacon Hills mysteries. Trust me, I had a lot of theories regarding the events after new-years, but none of them involved _werewolves! _Vampires, sure, but not werewolves!

So Scott was a werewolf, Derek as in '_Derek Hale_, _the last survivor' _was a werewolf-boss-guy and Derek had recently bitten Isaac, as Stiles understood it, so Isaac was also a werewolf. The second I realized the God of Love from the police station was _the _Derek Hale, I buried all hopes and dreams of ever, ever getting close enough to get a better look at his body again. There was a really good reason that a man whose family burned to death just six years ago wasn't exactly boyfriend material, especially not for a Blair.

Allison Argent and the rest of her family was also a feature in this saga of mystery, as werewolf-hunters. Who else knew about this? Practically no one, except Jackson Whittemore, much to Scott's despair. So it turns out what Scott had done in the car the other day, was listening to my heartbeat to see if I lied about being Lydia's cousin. I passed that test, eventually. And why was Lydia still just a regular teenage girl?

"I don't know, we checked in on her at the hospital, the bite healed at a very normal human rate," Stiles said, looking at the floor instead of me. "She doesn't even know that a werewolf bit her."

Okay, so Lydia is, as far as they know, _not _a werewolf. That's good. Stiles went on to explain that humans bitten either turned or died, but as Lydia had done neither, she was a bit of a curiosity at the moment. Derek, the guy actually born a werewolf, had never heard of such a thing before. That explained why the ambulance attack was a natural place to look for Lydia, they feared she'd gone savage and attacked people to eat. That did not explain _my_ presence at the scene, but he was distracted enough not to ask.

Thank gods.

"So Isaac did attack his dad then?" I asked the question I didn't actually want to hear the answer to. My heart fluttered when Stiles shook his head.

"No, Derek says he didn't so…besides last night wasn't a full moon," Stiles said, puffing up his cheeks to blow air out forcibly.

"So there's something else?" I asked, a tingling feeling on the back of my neck, like something was outside the window watching me right this very moment.

"There's something else."

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

So, guess who didn't have access to proper wi-fi over the holidays? This girl! The winter storms broke something (fiber, cable, something something?), and we were offline for a whole week. No TV either, so I got to read _a lot_! (Yay!) But now I'm back, at the airport right now actually, and ready to write and update and all sorts of fun stuff.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter! I want to thank **Metastee Postre** for an awesone review (so glad you liked it!) as well as ** Bookworn**, **RHatch89** and "_Too lazy 2 login_" for taking the time to review. It means SO much to me, so thank you thank you thank you. Hearts and kisses to you and everyone else! HAPPY NEW YEAR!


	7. Erica Reyes

_Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to Teen Wolf nor its characters. This piece of fiction is created purely out of love for the show and no profit will be made._

**An Ye Harm None**

**Chapter 7 – Erica Reyes**

Sheriff Stilinski made me sleep over again in the Sunflower Room, claiming responsibility for me since no one had been able to get ahold of my sister or aunts yet. Normally that would have worried me, but as Sabrina went months at a time without contact, I just had to wait until she deemed me worthy enough of her attention again. As for my aunts…well, I had a pretty good idea who kept them from contacting me or vice versa.

Stiles drove me to school the next morning and though I got the feeling he didn't completely trust me yet, there was a more relaxed atmosphere this time. Maybe it was the mutual understanding that we both had Lydia's best interest in mind or maybe he cut me a break after our near-death experience last night. After all, nothing brought you closer than facing death together at the hands of a freshly turned werewolf.

Was it just me or did it make absolutely no sense in biting someone _just_ before the full moon? What if he waited two or three days so Isaac could have a whole month to get used to his powers and new animalistic tendencies? Sheriff Stilinski would not have to figure out how on earth they managed to wrench the door open at least. Remind me to tell Derek 'Hot Stuff' Hale this.

Well, as luck would have it, Lydia caught a break from being the center of school gossip. Everyone whispered about Isaac and his breakout from jail now. The whole lacrosse team was brought in for questioning, to see if anyone had some idea of his current whereabouts, but it quickly came out that Isaac did not really have any friends. Especially not the kind you would potentially reach out to when you're a wanted fugitive. I got a reprimanding from the AP Calculus' teacher for missing class yesterday, but made it up to her by completing the problem set first of everyone. Lydia forgave me for bailing on he, although not for my outfit choice. To be fair, I was wearing another one of Stiles' shirts over Lydia's dress.

I didn't realize just how many classes Isaac and I shared until I went through every one of them without his presence.

Okay, so maybe my infatuation for Isaac went a little deeper than I thought. I just hoped he was okay. At lunch that day, I chose to sit with Stiles and Scott rather than my own secluded spot in the corner or the center table with Lydia and her friends. Scott's head moved from Stiles to me and back, before he dared to ask, "How much does she-"

"Pretty much everything," Stiles supplied. I suppose Stiles filled Scott in on something, but not all the details. I couldn't keep my eyes of Scott. Not because of how attractive he was, although that was an added bonus, but because he was a _werewolf! _He didn't look any different, but then I'd never met him before his bite. I half contemplated asking him to turn in front of me, just so I could study him further, but realized the school cafeteria might not be the best place.

"Oh, errr," Scott intelligently said and glanced at me. "Cassie, about the thing in the car…"

I actually wanted to know exactly what he had to say about the thing in the car, because the only explanation I could think of was that he heard my heartbeat skip when telling a lie. As mentioned, I usually refrained from outright lying, but I suppose some part of what I said had been far enough from the truth to affect my pulse. But if he called me out on my lie, I probably had to explain a few things I didn't particularly feel like explaining.

"It's okay," I said brightly, throwing in a big smile. "No further explanation needed, you are one hundred percent thoroughly forgiven." He gave a relieved half-smile, which vanished when I said: "So, what do you think attacked Isaac's dad?"

Stiles completely overreacted, nearly knocking down my water bottle as he twisted wildly in his seat to see if anyone overheard. He shouldn't have bothered; _I _barely heard my own words over the din of a thousand teenagers talking. "Cassie, come on! A little stealth here?"

I rolled my eyes, Stiles was too predictable by now. He calmed down quickly enough, and dropped his voice to a low whisper. "Seriously though, you said there was something that attacked you and Allison at Isaac's house?"

"Well, yeah," Scott said. "It didn't exactly attack, but I may have scared it off." He looked proud of himself. Really, this little goofball was a big, bad werewolf once or twice a month? Didn't exactly seem too plausible. "It didn't look anything like a werewolf though, more like a…" He trailed off, searching for a fitting word.

"Like a what, Scott? A what? A lion, a bear, a fish, a-"

"A snake," Scott cut Stiles off. "I didn't get a good look at it, it was dark and…"

"Allison was there," Stiles supplied with a roll of his eyes. "Whatever, go on."

"It had a tail," Scott revealed, as it was the news of the century. "I do not have a tail."

"How would you know? It's behind you, right?" I suggested right before I took a swig of the water bottle. Both boys stopped to stare at me. What, did I have something on my face? I made the move to casually check if any ketchup had moved from my mouth to my forehead before:

"Was that a joke? Did you just make a joke? An actual attempt to be funny?" Trust Stiles to be all discreet. My heart pumped a bit harder to fill my cheeks with hot blood. Okay, I know it hadn't been _that_ hilarious, but-

"High five!" Stiles' open palm came sailing through the air at me, and I froze dead instead of jumping backwards or try to ward it off. It stopped short an inch before my nose and his shoulders slumped. "Home-schooled. Right, I forgot. Okay, so here's how it goes…"

* * *

><p>To set the record straight, I did know how to perform a high-five; they just hadn't been all too common at the Academy. Friendly behavior hadn't been all too common at the Academy, with everyone constantly striving to outdo themselves and each other. You're only as good as everyone else thinks you are, so competition was fierce. If someone became overly friendly, you better believe a backstabbing was right around the corner. After a few test runs however, Stiles deemed me a competent high-fiver.<p>

Scott's words about the snakelike monster made me put Mr. Harris on my suspect list, especially after the arrogant smile he gave me when handing me my score for the pop quiz a few days ago. "Looks like Pennsylvania have some ground to cover in regards to the Chemistry curriculum." Jerkface.

Luckily I had a valid excuse for not going therapy shopping with Lydia and her clique as the Zig Zag Diner waited for my presence after school. Janet handed me a uniform, a nametag that only said 'In training' and a warning about grabby hands at table twelve. My job for today would consist in clearing tables, learning the menu and become overly familiar with the dishwasher. But come on, a job as a fast-food worker? How hard could it possibly be?

* * *

><p>"I'm contemplating harakiri in the back room, care to join me?" I mumbled under my breath to my fellow server, Miranda, after two hours into service.<p>

"Only because if I don't, I'll have to scrub your blood of the floor," she muttered back, but quickly plastered on a smile to the newcomers who just walked in the door. "Hi, welcome to Zig Zag!"

It was a disaster. My easy transition into the diner fell to pieces right when Clark, one of the counter servers didn't show. So now I managed the register with minimal training, prepared drinks, cleared the nearby tables, packed take-out, rang up food, made milkshakes and cocoa, answered the phone and not to mention, tried to smile to everyone. After tonight, I imagine my face would be stuck in a permanent grin like a female Jack Nicholson as the Joker.

Janet, who actually ran the place, proved to be the very epitome of service when dealing with customers, but turned into the Wicked Witch the second she turned to us. No, she was strict, but not cruel. I couldn't blame her for Clark's disappearance, even if it meant me considering suicide to get out of there. What was wrong with these people? Did putting on a uniform and a silly cap instantly turn me into some lesser being that everyone could harass? It should be mandatory for everyone to try working like this once in their life, maybe people would start looking at the way they treated us.

Not to mention that the uniform consisted of a retro, pale blue dress with a white collar and an apron that I felt completely ridiculous in. Janet told me to bring better shoes the next time and I agreed because these sneakers would be the death of me.

"Hi, welcome to Zig Zag. May I take your order, please?" My words were a direct copy of Miranda's, but I suspected my smile a little less believable. I spent a few seconds extra to figure out the register, but managed well enough. "Next, please."

"Hi, welcome to…" The fake smile flew off my face. "Derek?"

Dark hair, green eyes and sporting the same leather jacket from yesterday, Derek Hale stood on the other side of the counter, ready to order. He gave me a nod. "Cassie."

Okay, so the werewolf-boss currently harboring a wanted fugitive remembered my name. Nothing to worry about. We were in a public place after all. I struggled to find any words, the key phrases Miranda taught me instantly escaped my mind when I realized whom the customer was. Not only was he the most physically attractive man I'd ever come across, he was also the werewolf who bit Isaac.

"Everything alright?" Derek asked without a hint of emotion. How could he manage to be so threatening just by standing there with slightly raised eyebrows and hands in his pockets?

"How did you know I work here? I didn't even know I worked here before yesterday, I've only been here a few hours, you couldn't possibly…" I remembered Scott's sniffing from the other day – just how efficient was the werewolf's sense of smell? "What do you want?"

"To see how you're doing." Still with the straight face, but he appeared to be examining me, probably a lot more discreet than Scott had.

"I'm fine," I said as calmly as I could muster. That was not a direct lie, no way that impacted my heartbeat. "What do you want…_to order_?"

Derek's lips twitched slightly and he nodded, like I passed some sort of test. "Two double bacon cheeseburgers with fries and onion rings. To go."

As I tried to make head and tails of the register, my pulse quickened when I realized he was buying food for Isaac too. If I could follow Derek back to his lair, I might be able to – no, wait, the smell thing. Derek would be able to know I followed him before I actually did so. Besides, Janet said my shift lasted until eight.

Derek waited patiently until I figured out how to enter his order and I took a deep breath, turning on my Zig Zag-persona. "That will be 16, 29 please. It'll probably take ten minutes, you're welcome wait over there until your food is ready. Welcome back to Zig Zag!"

He nodded and said quietly, "Isaac is doing fine, by the way." He went to read the newspaper in a corner. I couldn't breathe normally until he got his order and left with another nod in my direction.

"Who was that and do you have his number?" Miranda latched onto me during a twenty-second interval before Janet gave us order to get back to work. No, but I wished I had someone else's. My smile became a little more genuine after that, the words 'Isaac is doing fine' ringing in my ears. It got even better when Janet gave me the contract and asked how many hours I'd like a week.

* * *

><p>P.E. Physical education. A bunch of teenagers in gym clothes and an overenthusiastic teacher. Probably the bane of my existence.<p>

"I'm sorry, I can't," I told Coach Finstock, eyeing the way too tall rock wall in the corner of my eye.

"What do you mean 'you _can't'_?" he spat, making a face. "Where do you think this great nation would be if Neil Armstrong told NASA that he _can't_? Or Abraham Lincoln telling the Republicans that he _can't?_ Or Susan B. Anthony-"

"All right, all right, I get it," I said and crossed my arms. Giving suspicious looks to the rest of the class, I lowered my voice. "Listen, I have really bad acrophobia. I don't like even standing on chairs to reach the top shelf, it's that bad. If you force me to climb that wall, believe me, I'll pass out, hit the mat in a weird way and break my neck – becoming invalid for the rest of my life. Do you really want that on your conscience? Robbing a sixteen year old girl the ability to walk…_forever_?"

I didn't lie; I was really scared of heights. I don't know how tall people could stand it. But it wasn't something I particularly wanted the rest of the school to know. Or anyone else, for that matter. But I decided telling Coach Finstock beat actually losing consciousness in the middle of a climb. He still looked unconvinced though. I sighed.

"I'm on my period."

"And you're on the bench!" he whooped and firmly ignored me.

Thank Mother of all. I didn't get to actually sit down, but hovered in the background with a pissed-off Lydia. Coach wouldn't let her climb because of her mother, who'd excused her from any straining activity for at least a month. "It's ridiculous, it's not like I have any stitches that can come undone. Can't believe I even bothered to change."

We watched Allison and Scott, apparently they used to date back in the day, and Lydia made some offhand comment on Allison's shorts. To be honest, Scott's outfit distracted me more. Not enough though, I got nervous just watching other people climb, no matter how many safety precautions they took. The necklace in my hand acted as a lifeline.

"Oh no!" I squeaked when Scott lost grip and plunged down to stop a few inches above ground, held back by his harness. My hands already covered my face, but I dared peek when he fell the last few inches to the mat. Coach Finstock was having a ball. "Scott, are you okay?" He gave me an upside down grin and stood up just as Allison descended.

"All right, next two," Coach bellowed, moving into the circle of onlookers. Over half had already gone up, but I tried not to watch because it made me queasy. "Stilinski, Erica, let's go. The wall."

Stiles looked too excited for my taste, but frizzy-haired girl mirrored my own trepidation. Somehow, watching Stiles made me even more nervous than watching Scott, because guess which one didn't have werewolf healing powers? But I suppose almost playing for the lacrosse team paid of, Stiles practically flew up the wall – poor Erica hadn't even gotten more than a few feet of the ground before Stiles dropped himself down. He threw his arms up in victory, but my eyes were glued to the girl struggling.

"I can't watch this," I mumbled and turned away. Staring at someone else having a panic attack would just trigger my own. I _knew_ she wasn't in any danger, I knew the mat would soften any potential fall, but…heights, you know. The feeling of plummeting to your death? Nope.

"Oh, please…" she hiccupped, her breath coming in short bursts.

"Aww," someone from the crowd quipped and I wanted to glare, but knew if I turned around I might throw up. Lydia left my side to join the onlookers, but I fixed my gaze on the far wall. _Breathe in, breathe out…_Could I help her?

"Erica." Coach's voice rose above all others'. "Dizzy? Is it vertigo?"

Lydia sniffed. "Vertigo's a dysfunction of the vestibular system of the inner ear." Boy, was she muffed about not getting to climb. "She's just freaking out."

"Lydia, shut up," I mumbled, not turning around fully. She gave me a 'what'-look and crossed her arms defiantly. Coach managed to coax Erica down and when her feet hit the mat in an anti-climax, the class disrupted into mocking laughter. I tried to catch her eye, we _did_ sit next to each other in Chemistry that one time, but instead I found my gaze drawn to the wardrobe door. Miss Gossip AKA Locker-Buddy Dos stood leaning on the doorframe, watching Erica move past her. Why wasn't she in class? She still had on her normal clothes even.

"God, what a crybaby," Lydia said. "Just because she's epileptic she gets all this special treatment, totally demanding everyone's attention."

I could only stare at Lydia, all thoughts of my Locker-buddy gone. Wow, guess those ten years really turned her into Sabrina personality-wise. She even inherited her special kind of self-perception.

"Before I forget, you're coming with us tonight, right?" she said in a bright tone, briefly looking away from Jackson and some dark-haired girl's climb.

"Tonight?" I asked, trying simultaneously to not notice Jackson's rippling arm muscles or the fact that they were both twenty feet above ground level. "What's tonight?"

"Do you even listen when I talk to you? At all?"

Jackson was at the top now, doing some macho stance thing, and I couldn't tear my eyes of it. "What?"

"Oh, god, you're so hopeless. Whatever, just come by my place at five before we go over to Allison's, I'm not letting you wear that awful shirt you had on before."

"That's actually Stiles'."

"That makes it worse."

* * *

><p>Because we didn't actually participate, Lydia and I were first out of the locker rooms and made our way to the library to prepare for the upcoming English-test. Allison looked distraught when she joined us, but filled us in on Erica's seizure and her subsequent trip to the hospital. Lydia made it pretty clear she couldn't care less, but I asked what happened. Allison didn't know, but thought Erica might have tried to climb the wall after class, with no safety harness or mat beneath, and had a seizure mid-climb. Scott caught her before she hit the ground.<p>

"Why was Scott there?" I asked, furrowing my brows. She shrugged, looking uncomfortable and highly dishonest. Did Scott and Stiles not tell her that I knew? Knew of her and her family and Scott's weird heightened senses? No wonder she was awkward around me.

"Can we please talk about something else? Allison, what are you wearing tonight?"

"Oh, well, look at the time! It's Bio for me," I exclaimed and got out of the library. Lydia got on my nerves; acting like a mini-diva all the time and like she only cared about clothes and boys. I remembered her when we were _seven_ and she completed our babysitter's crossword puzzle for her. She tried really hard to come of as a ditz.

_With a fool no season spend_

_Or be counted as his friend_

Lydia was no fool, just acting like one.

Our teacher was sick today, and we got to watch a quite monotonous video about immunity. It was boring to begin with, so the intense whispering at Jackson's desk got even more distracting than usual. Stupid boys with their stupid handsome faces and –

I turned so fast in my chair I nearly completed a full circle. Jackson caught me staring! He twisted his head to give me his trademark smirk, but I pretended to be taking notes, not noticing my pencil was upside down. Ex-boyfriend of Lydia's or not, he was hot. I could look, right? After class and a quick stop at my locker, I went to find Lydia so we could go to English together. That's weird, she said we'd meet up at her locker. But there was no petite almost-redhead in sight.

Looking over my shoulder to see if she showed up, I nearly smacked right into her as she rushed out of the girls' bathroom.

"Did you see him?" she asked frantically, looking around me before her mouth tightened and she walked the complete opposite direction of our English classroom.

"See who? What? Lydia!" I called to no avail. She made no sign she heard me, just climbed the stairs to the second floor and soon only the clicks of her heels echoed in the nearly deserted halls. I was already late for English, but I cast a worried look in her direction before I went.

Lydia joined halfway out in the lesson, excusing herself to the teacher. Now that I got a good look at her, I noticed her out of place make-up. Was she in the girls' bathroom crying? I tried to give her an 'Are you okay?'-look, but only got the familiar shrug back. Whatever, I focused on my English-test. She'd talk if she felt like it, I reasoned.

'Explain the term allegory' I read.

_As you wish, English Lit test, as you wish._

* * *

><p>I missed lunch, because the principal called me to his office.<p>

"Miss Blair," the elderly man with white hair and the rigid posture of a veteran said. "I seem to be missing some of your paperwork." He indicated the one-paper file with my name on it. "And the phone number for Isadora Blair seem to be out of service. Tell me, you don't happen to be related to the Blairs of Blair Industries, do you?"

Principal Argent gave me a smile that set my nerves on fire. Argent, French for silver, another one of the werewolf hunters. The principal's office even resembled an interrogation room now.

"Distantly," I said with a smile. I got a murderous vibe of this man, like he had a fresh kill on his hands. "Aunt Isadora is taking a sabbatical in Asia right now, I'm living with my sister out the semester. She's away on business, though, but I'll get the papers for you before Monday."

"Well, as far as I can tell, you are already making good progress in your classes. Apart from Chemistry at least." The thin smile never left his face. "I hear your related to Lydia Martin, cousin was it?"

"Yes." What did he want? Why did he bring up Lydia?

"How is she, after the animal attack and all?" Something about the way he said 'animal' left the impression that he suspected I knew something.

"Good, recovering." I kept my answers short. He may not be a werewolf, but he looked like the kind of guy to have ways of detecting lies.

"Good," Principal Argent said and closed my folder. "Well, try to get hold of your records, Miss Blair. Wouldn't want to deny you the opportunity of an education just because of some clerical error, would we?"

How did one answer that? I just took it as my cue to leave. Everyone seemed overly interested in my cousin lately, and with her weird behavior earlier today?

"Oh, sorry!" I got to stop walking into people! This time it was a tall blonde in a tiny leather skirt and some serious high heels. My face nearly smacked into her breasts.

She pushed me off her, but didn't say anything, just kept eating her apple and striding out of the school's front door. Seconds later, Scott and Stiles came running through the hallway and burst the doors open again. Okay? They kept the doors open between them, and enabled me to see the blond bombshell get into a sleek, black car with – Derek? What? He grinned behind some sunglasses, and took off.

"What was that?" I asked and the two boys looked at me, each one more worried than the other. "Was that Derek?"

"And Erica," Stiles said with a frown. Holy shit, that was Erica? Boy, that hospital patched her up good.

"I thought she went to the hospital for her seizure, not a makeover," I commented drily. Scott's jaw tensed noticeably, and I gaped. "By gods, did Derek – I mean, did he just… he didn't?"

Scott's silence gave all the answers. I could add one more werewolf to my list of paranormal beings in Beacon Hills.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Cassie?" Stiles held me back after our last class of the day, and Lydia gave us a weird look before she walked off with Allison. Stiles waited until everyone else had left. Was this about Erica? Could we do something about it?<p>

"Hypothetically speaking, how mad would you get if I asked you to _not_ come to the ice rink tonight?" he asked, twisting his face in a weird grimace.

"What ice rink?" I asked back, trying to think when I was asked to go to the ice rink. "Oh, that's what Lydia meant about tonight?"

"Yeah, well, the thing is….the thing is it's just going to be Allison and Scott," he said, clearly searching for the right way to word this. "And me and Lydia."

"Like a double date?"

He smiled relieved. "Like a double date, yeah."

"Only, you're not dating."

His mouth opened and closed a few times. "Well, no, not _right _now, no-"

"Stiles, don't think I forgot you were the one to bring Lydia to the Winter Formal, but Jackson ended up being the one to get her to the hospital," I said, dropping my voice down.

Stiles' goofy grin disappeared. "What? I told you what happened, _exactly_ what happened. That Peter happened, to both of us!"

"That's what you told me happened," I clarified. "I don't have lie detector skills, and isn't it convenient that the only one who can confirm your story died the same night?" _Burned to death_. I shook the voice off, don't know where that came from.

Stiles blinked, completely dumbstruck. Okay, so Stiles wasn't my prime suspect anymore, but of course I would get suspicious when it came to my cousin. She was the only family I had any contact with at the moment.

"You can not – are you serious – I'm so pissed I can't even think," Stiles went of, his voice fluctuating in volume and tone. "You can not possibly think I would do something to hurt Lydia – _ever_! I've had a crush on her since third grade, she's the only girl – I would never do anything to…God!" He rubbed his scalp with both hands.

"You've had a crush on Lydia since third grade?" I asked, raising both my eyebrows. How come no one told me these things? That's the last thing I expected. Stiles' entire body went into shock now and he gaped at me with wide eyes.

"Seriously? You _seriously _did not know that? Are you – seriously?"

"Does Lydia know?"

"How can she not?" Stiles cried, throwing his arms up. He took them down again, a bit more thoughtful now. "Well, she might not have known who I actually was until Winter Formal, but come on! I made it kinda obvious, don't you think?"

"I didn't know," I pointed out, wondering if this revelation deterred or added to my suspicion of Stiles and his wolf-brother. Stiles was a smart and funny guy, but…he was almost too smart to just ignore as a threat. Although, he did sort of try to keep me safe when Isaac went full wolf on us. He was heaps better than Jackson when it came to boyfriend material, that's for sure. "Maybe you should try telling her?"

"Like, with flowers or…?" Stiles went back to being goofy.

"I was thinking of words, but sure, flowers might do the trick," I said, only sort of sarcastic. If a boy ever bought me flowers I would swoon. Swoon! "Or chocolate."

"You want me to just tell her? Outright? No beating around the bush? No tip-toeing around the subject?" Stiles couldn't stand still, his fingers twitching and knees bouncing. "Be like 'Hey, Lydia, I think we might be great together, let's make supersmart babies'?"

I squinted my eyes; he was dead serious. "Maybe not bring up babies?"

"Okay, no babies. Gotcha!"

I made a deal to refrain from joining them at the ice rink, on the condition that he would call immediately if something happened. Immediately! Lydia rolled her eyes when I said I had to cover someone else's shift at Zig Zag, but had nothing else to say on the matter. I didn't like lying to her, but deemed it necessary for now. I wanted to find out more on the creature at Isaac's house and first stop was Mr. Lahey's murder site.

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

Chapter 7 already! And I just started on chapter 21! The reason I don't upload them all at once is that I want to maintain some freedom for editing or changing details, like if I realize I got the timeline wrong or something like that. But, I'll try to keep the updates regular now, most likely Fridays or Saturdays from now on (Norwegian time-zone though, GMT+01).

Anyway, thank you for reading and please tell me what you think! I want to send extra love to **RHHatch89 **for being an awesome consistent reviewer! And as always, I really appreciate everyone who review, favorite or follow (or all of the above!), so thank you. Hearts and kisses to you all.


	8. Aconite

_Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to Teen Wolf nor its characters. This piece of fiction is created purely out of love for the show and no profit will be made._

**An Ye Harm None**

**Chapter 8 – Aconite**

The police had finally removed Mr. Lahey's car and the police tape surrounding the alleyway. I doubt Sheriff Stilinski would be happy if he found me here, but technically I wasn't breaking any laws. Whoever cleaned up murder scenes did a pretty good job, because I didn't see any blood left behind. That made my job harder, but not impossible. Why here though? I eyed the dumpsters and tossed out furniture – what was special about this place?

I tried to place myself in what seemed to be the center and took a deep breath through my nose. I may not have Scott's sense of smell, but I wasn't completely useless. Well, right now I was; I couldn't feel anything. Nothing was special about this place – at least Mr. Lahey had no connection to it. What if the monster did?

My eyes fell on the manhole cover. Scott did say snakelike monster, so…snakes, alligator, sewers: natural connection to make, right? Or maybe I read too many comic books as a child. I doubt Beacon Hills got a visit from Lizard or Killer Croc. That would make Isaac's werewolfiness and his father's death a complete coincidence – and who didn't believe in coincidences? This girl.

Why Mr. Lahey though? Stiles told me the grave robbing and ambulance attack had been by a lone werewolf, an Omega, so as far as I knew Mr. Lahey was the first and only victim of this new creature. And it had been at Mr. Lahey's house too, why? To get to Isaac? Didn't the news article about Mr. Lahey mention an older son as well? Maybe the snake-creature tried to eradicate the Laheys. Too many questions, no one to answer them. Not here, at least. I should head back to the car, try to find an address for Isaac and-

"You shouldn't be here." The male voice came from the darkest corner of the alley, sending a flush of adrenaline through my body. "Didn't you hear? It's not safe."

Every primal instinct shouted at me to run, but I held my ground. Curiosity killed the cat and all that. I did position my feet slightly, so I actually had the option of running.

"Little girls shouldn't stray too far off the path," the voice continued in the same taunting tone. I knew that voice, barely. "They might meet the Big Bad Wolf."

Isaac stepped into the light, looking different from the last time I saw him. First of all, he wore a leather jacket and second, he didn't have a single bruise on his face. I exhaled in relief; it was only Isaac. Werewolf-Isaac, but still, just sweet Isaac. He did have a weird smirk going on though.

"Did you just compare me to Little Red Riding Hood?" I wondered aloud, because seriously, there were plenty of more sinister fairytale allegories to be made here. "Did you know that in some early versions of the tale, the wolf is actually a 'bzou', which is just another name of werewolf?"

Isaac's smirk wavered slightly, but did not falter. "What are you doing here, Red?"

I ignored him. "Technically, wouldn't Derek be the Big Bad Wolf? I mean, he's that boss thing, right?"

"Alpha."

"That's what I meant. Not that I don't think you're big or bad, it's just that I…don't," I trailed off, trying to gauge his reaction. He held himself differently now, more confident. I'm not going to lie, after the whole ordeal at the sheriff's station, he scared me. Not a lot, but enough for me to be nervous around him for other reasons than before.

Isaac put his hands in his jacket pockets and looked at me through a wayward curl on his forehead. "You should be careful how you talk about Derek, he's my pack leader now. I may want to defend his reputation."

Pack? There were a lot of things I didn't know about werewolves. "I just called him boss," I pointed out, inching my way back out of the alley. Isaac was making me nervous. "Not like I made fun of him for turning Erica so he could have someone to play with."

_Speak you little, listen much_

"Or that he's a twenty-something preying on high school teenagers to make himself a 'pack' to protect him."

_Speak you little, listen much._

Isaac's face darkened, but I fought to keep my heart rate under control. I would not be intimidated by him. Werewolf or not. "So who's next, then? Because even if it's only angst-ridden teenagers he's after, that only narrows it down to ninety-eight percent of the Beacon Hills High student body."

A warning growl escaped Isaac's lips, and now his eyes flashed yellow. He forced his eyes shut, taking a slow step in my direction, and when he opened them again they were back to blue. "What are you doing here?"

_Speak you little, listen much! _

"Trying to find out who killed your dad," I blurted out, only because I wanted to, not because my heartbeat went a mile a minute now and he would know if I lied or not. He snorted at my words.

"Don't bother, he won't be missed," he snarled, still walking towards me even though I kept the distance by trying to get out of the alleyway. I suppressed any urges to break into a run, because everyone knew dogs couldn't resist a chase.

"What are _you_ doing here, Isaac?" I hoped using his name would help him focus to not turn full wolf and rip my throat out. He was different – less cute and more _alluring_. "Aren't you kind of wanted by the police?"

"Kind of," he said just as my back hit something. I walked right into a wall, damn it! He closed the distance between us, forcing me to push myself further into the brick wall so we wouldn't actually touch. I've never touched a boy before, not like Isaac. "Forget about my dad, Red. Go home."

He was too close, way too close for comfort. I could smell the distinct scent of attractive boy, heightened sense of smell unnecessary. The lack of space between us made it very clear just how much taller than me he was. I craned my neck to keep looking into his eyes, to show him that he did not intimidate me. He lowered his head slightly towards me and I widened my eyes. Was he – surely he did not – I had never –

Isaac smiled his crooked half-smiley, leaning in towards my ear and not my lips. "I can hear your heartbeat," he mocked and my stomach sank. He knew. He knew how my heart fluttered when he got close. He knew, and he made fun of me. I closed my eyes, more angry than embarrassed now. Bastard. That…bastard.

"Go hom-"

"AAAAH!" I shrieked in tune with the howling scream that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. My hands flew to my ears to lock it out and my knees collapsed so I sank onto the ground. For several long, excruciating seconds the screams persisted; forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut and just wait until it ended. Finally, it stopped, but the ringing in my ears went on and on. That sounded like Lydia when she first went missing.

"Cassie!" Isaac crouched down next to me and forced my hands away from my ears. "What happened?" Like he cared, that stupid jerk. Let him go back to his wolf den and talk about the stupid girl with the stupid crush on the stupid boy.

_Speak you little, listen much_!

"Nothing!" I shouted, louder than intended. "Nothing happened, it was just a – nothing. I need to go." I ignored his attempt to help me get up and walked out with as much dignity as I could muster. I didn't know how good their hearing was, but I waited until I got into my car and turned the radio on full volume before I called Stiles. He answered on the second ring.

"_Cassie, how d_-"

"Is she okay?" I shouted into the phone over some cover version of an old pop song. "Stiles, is Lydia okay?"

"_I don't know what happened, one minute she was off doing these crazy pirouettes and teaching me how to do a bracket turn and next thing I know she's on her knees trying to dig the ice up with her fingers, screaming her lungs out. She completely freaked out, I have no idea why_!" Stiles sounded panicked, and I could imagine him running his hand over his buzz-cut several times.

"Where is she now?" I asked, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. That scream, it didn't sound human. I drove around at random; I didn't know where the ice rink was.

"_Allison's car, she's taking her home,"_ Stiles said desolately. Not how he imagined their double date to end, I'm sure. "_She – she was still crying." _

Allison got her, she didn't run off again. Thank Mother of all. But if Lydia's mom was home, I couldn't go see her. No matter how aloof she acted at the hospital, Mrs. Martin would probably be a different story within the walls of her own house. "Okay, I'll call her," I told Stiles and hung up, immediately dialing Lydia's number.

"_Cassie?_" her tearful voice came from the other end. I could hear her crying even over the phone.

"Lydia, are you okay? What happened?" Without thinking, I took of in the direction of Lydia's house anyway, I wanted to see if she was okay.

"_Cassie, it…I saw – I can't talk about it_," she sobbed. What did she mean? Because of Allison? Maybe we ought to fill Lydia in on a few of the things that happened in Beacon Hills the last month, maybe things would be clearer for her then. "_Aconitum lycoctonum._"

Aconitum lycoctonum? The first word didn't have a direct meaning, even though it sounded Greek, and the second word? No idea. I realized it had to be some Latin name for an animal or a bird or something.

"Is that what attacked you, Lydia?" I tried asking, but only heard some snivels from her end. Eventually came four words I knew the meaning of.

"_Holocaustum autem hoc homine." _

_The burnt man_.

* * *

><p>Lydia's words did not help the puzzle fit together, but rather threw in a few more pieces with a whole different color scheme and a fifth corner piece. I searched online for <em>aconitum lycoctonum – <em>the more known name was Northern Wolf's Bane. Lycoctonum came from a Greek word meaning _wolf-slayer, _while aconitum stemmed from the village near the cave that housed the entrance to Hades and was guarded by Cerebus.

Did she try to tip me of about werewolves? Could she not just have said the Latin word for werewolves then? Lykos antrhōpos. Aconitum…Also known as Monkshood, aconite, wolf's bane, leopard's bane, women's bane or just blue rocket. The same flower I spent an entire lesson sketching in my Economics-notebook the day after I found Lydia. I should have taken it more serious, apparently. I put away my phone and started up my car again; I'd be sitting outside Zig Zag for a while now, not trusting my shaking hands to take me safely home.

Veering the car down the lonely road to the Blair House, I stifled yet another yawn. I couldn't wait to have a cup of chamomile tea and crawl inside my sleeping bag. I reached the bend where I usually park and - I braked heavily, just barely missing the red Bentley that occupied my usual spot. Eyes wide, I stopped the car instantly and tried to discern if any lights were on inside the House. Unfortunately the night was dark as ever. The car looked expensive and spotless, even after driving on the gravel road up here. I sighed and got out. Wonder who they sent?

My sight adjusted to the dark and now I noticed the dark-haired woman in a white pantsuit with a plunging neckline leaning against the hood of the Bentley. She puffed on some sort of steam cigarette and it fogged up her sunglasses. Did I mention how dark it was outside?

"Hello, Cassandra," she said after a while, her smooth, rich voice blending in with the natural sounds from the forest. After another drag on her steam cigarette, she added, "Blessed be."

I kept quiet, although acknowledged her with a short curtsy and a nod of my head. The woman pushed of her car in an elegant movement and made long, slow steps to circle around me. I felt like a prized horse, being evaluated for sale or slaughter. I kept still though, only raising my chin slightly.

"Good posture," she appraised. "Horrible taste in clothes though. That is luck, the former is harder to correct."

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes – I get it, my plaid shirts were an abomination. "Can I help you?" I knew I had never seen this woman before, but that did not mean she was a stranger – more than likely, she was family.

"I am your aunt, although that makes me sound horribly old, so please just call me Celina." She stopped right in front of me; she towered above me in her stiletto heels, so she looked down at me over her nose. "I am here to take you home."

Of course she was. They would not bother coming themselves, would they? I still had anger left in my veins from earlier, and now it flamed up, stronger than ever. How dared she? "No," I said, more to myself than her.

Her long fingers went to her sunglasses, so she could look at me over them. "Excuse me?" Celina put her sunglasses in place and folded her arms. "That was not a request, rather than a statement."

"I'm staying," I said, clutching my hands into fists to conceal their trembling.

Her immaculate painted lips twisted in distaste. "Know your place, girl."

"I do, it's here. I'm not leaving."

A shrilling laugh escaped her mouth as she circled around me again. "Well, aren't you a sight? Sixteen years old, undefeated, and with all the bravado only a teenager can possess. What do you know about the dark, little girl? About the beings lurking in the shadows, about borders on the verge of breaking?" Her sultry voice came from behind me. "Sweet, little midnight child, what could you possibly know about the witching hour or the full moon's peak?"

She knows. They know. They knew, and still tried to stop me from going, stop me from helping Lydia. My anger burned into a cold, hard fury.

"The Beacon is no place for you, Little Red. For any of us."

The Beacon. Not Beacon Hills or Beacon County, but The Beacon. Just like Aunt Belinda said. What did it mean? I didn't dare move a muscle, and Celina stopped by my side, shoulder by shoulder, each facing the opposite direction.

"You can tell the Council I appreciate their concern," I said in an icy voice. "But I decline their request and choose to stay where I am."

This time I didn't get a laugh; she only twisted her head to look right at me. "Get in the car," she said. "Or I'll make you."

I looked directly at her, at my reflection in her sunglasses. "You are on my land," I said with more certainty than I felt. "My turf. This House belongs to my aunt by blood, not shadows. And I'm not leaving."

Several long seconds passed, with each of us staying frozen and maintaining eye contact. Mentally, I prepared to make a run for it to my car. Our family on the west coast differed from us on the east; I had no idea what to expect from her.

Finally, Celina's face opened in a genuine smile, her lips stretched over a pearly row of white teeth. "Good girl," she said and went to retrieve something from her car. She came back and handed me my school records and journal from the Academy. I looked skeptically at both her and the papers in my hand. What kind of trick was this? "This stays between us. Let's just say I owed your Aunt Isadora a favor."

I stared at her back as she got back into her car. "Um, what?"

"Remember, Cassandra. _Genus est prius," _she said and closed the car door. I felt numb, barely registering what just happened.

"Wait!" I shouted, waking up again. "That's it? You're not going to tell me anything else?" Not going to help me, the words were on the edge of my tongue.

"Bide within the Law," she shouted out of the window before she made the turn and drove off. I wanted to scream and stomp my feet – why did everyone talk in riddles around here?

Genus est prius – family comes first. So now she wanted me to look after Lydia? Was it all a test? No, I decided. They would definitely send someone for me; only Aunt Isadora interfered this time.

"Gods," I mumbled and trudged through the overgrown garden and back into the House. "Bide within the Law, indeed."

* * *

><p>"I don't remember." Lydia applied her lipstick to perfection, giving herself a pleased kiss in the mirror. "God, I wish you wouldn't wear all black, Cassie. You're way too pale to get away with it."<p>

I glanced at my own reflection and my skin did appear sullen and pale compared to the black cardigan and jeans. To be honest, I had not even noticed before now that I wore all black. My thoughts must have been…elsewhere when I picked it out this morning. But who cared?

"You don't remember that I called you? That you started reciting Latin to me?" I asked incredulously. Her powder application halted, but only for a few seconds.

"Nope, " she said and I just shook my head. "It was probably just a delayed stress episode from my time in the woods. I don't get why you keep making such a fuss."

_Because I heard your scream on the other side of town! _

But Lydia was insistent in sweeping everything under the rug. I don't know if she honestly forgot talking to me when Allison drove her home, or if she just preferred not to think about it. We were in the girls' bathroom between classes and I just waited for her to finish perfecting her look. I let her monologue about that 'total slut' Erica for now – apparently Lydia took Erica's transformation as a personal threat to her position as Queen Bee. _Oh, if you knew, Lyds…_

Sad truth was though that Lydia did not have quite as many friends as before and I could see it hurt when people whispered behind her back. Teenagers were cruel and I guessed Lydia's ascend to the top had her stepping on too many people's toes in the process for them not to want revenge.

Erica didn't seem to mind the death stares coming from both Lydia and Scott, but chose to sit next to me in History. She gave me a superior sneer, and turned to look at her audience. I didn't know what to do. Scott acted like Derek was our enemy, but hadn't they worked together defeating the Alpha and rescuing Isaac? How was I supposed to treat Erica?

The thought of Isaac got my blood boiling again and I momentarily ignored the voluptuous blonde next to me. I suppose he and Derek had a great laugh at my expense yesterday – gods, he must have thought I nearly passed out from Lydia's screaming so I could get his attention or something. Ugh, stupid.

"I like your outfit," Erica whispered, leaning my way. Of course she did, she was clad in black leather herself with a heavy emphasis on her…huh-hums. "It's a good look for you."

Was she implying I would look even better in a leather jacket? Like, in Derek's leather jacket crew? Because if Lydia's immunity stemmed from what I thought it did, I sure as heck would not turn into anything other than a pissed-off, hospitalized Cassie if bitten. I met her heavily painted eyes and saw they crinkled in laughter. Aha, she was being sarcastic. I wished I had Lydia's ability to think of a comeback, but I still felt odd about her complete personality change. _Like Isaac's…_ I suppose douchebag-lessons were a part of Derek's Werewolf 101.

Lydia demanded I told her everything Erica said to me after class. "She just said that she likes my outfit, relax," I said to her as we went down to lunch.

"Oh, that bitch!" she exclaimed and stomped into the cafeteria without me. I shook my head, contemplating how high school was everything I dreaded and more.

"Whoa, hey!" I called as Scott and Stiles burst through the doors and nearly ran me over in the process. They didn't notice, but kept walking and I ran after them. "Wait! What's up?"

Stiles gave Scott an exasperated look and checked the perimeter, but everyone was inside at lunch. "We think Derek's after Boyd," he said and my eyes widened. Scott looked as angry now as he did when Erica got into Derek's car yesterday.

I didn't even know who Boyd was, but assumed he was another troubled teenager at Beacon Hills High. "Are you sure?" I asked, keeping my voice down in the same way as Stiles.

"I got this feeling," Scott said cryptically. "I'm going to the ice rink, see if he's there. Stiles, you go by his place, right? And if he's not at home, you call me, got it?"

"Wait, I'm coming with you," I told Scott and he immediately shook his head. "No, listen, I don't know about Boyd or anything, I just need to see the place Lydia freaked."

Stiles puffed. "What? How can you possibly justify th-"

"Let's just say that I have a connection with Lydia," I said hastily, not wanting to discuss this right now. Or ever. "Besides, Scott doesn't have a car."

"That is true," Stiles relented.

Scott still looked unconvinced. "If anything happens – no, listen to me – if anything happens, you get out of there immediately, okay? Especially if Derek shows."

"I'm not leav-"

"Yes, you are! I can't get my friends constantly caught in the crossfire of this," he said and my eyebrows rose. I didn't even think he thought of us as friends. Stiles rolled his eyes, apparently this protectiveness was a well-known trait with Scott.

I didn't bother to fight him on this, what were the odds Derek would show anyway? "Fine, whatever. Meet me at my car in five. I just need to tell Lydia she needs to catch another ride home."

"What?" I heard Scott ask Stiles before I turned the corner and located my cousin. I didn't have any time to think up a good lie on the spot, but mentioned something vague about a doctor's appointment regarding my long-since healed head wound. She did not look convinced, to say the least.

When I reached Scott at my car, he rolled his eyes as Stiles drew past, blowing him a kiss. "What was that about?" I asked, giving him a weird look. He just shook his head.

"Best you don't know," he said. We both got in my tiny Honda and he directed me to the ice skating rink. It felt odd. Last time we were in a car together didn't exactly end well. I wanted to tell him about Isaac, get his point of view on the matter, but refrained. I didn't want to tell them I went to visit the murder scene again.

"Did you change like that?" I asked instead, referring to Erica. "Well, I mean, you obviously didn't go up two cup sizes in a few hours, but…"

"Maybe not as drastic as Erica, but I changed. I used to be severely asthmatic," he admitted and smiled. "And you know, a lot worse at lacrosse."

"How about your…personality?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the road.

"I got more confident. But other than that…no. I guess power changes people, but in different ways. Take the next left here."

"So Erica…?" I trailed off, letting him decide what question I asked.

"I guess Derek's been telling them all about how powerful they'll be. Stronger, faster and with friends, a _pack_," Scott grumbled, annoyed the very second Derek came up. "I'm not sure how much he told about the hunters, the possibility you can kill your friends during full moon or that you'll be able to smell everything. And I mean, _everything_. Keep in mind that I spend a good part of my week in the boys' locker rooms."

I cringed and laughed with him. The sun eventually set and it grew darker as we drove, but finally we reached the ice rink. It was closed and I pointed it out to Scott, who just produced a key from his inner pocket. Okay then. A dark-skinned boy in a camouflage jacket was on the Zamboni machine, smoothing the surfaces of the ice.

"Scott, where did Lydia get her fit?" I asked and he pointed to his left on a spot the Zamboni machine still hadn't covered.

"Remember, stay in the background and if anything happens…"

"I'll get out of here, yeah," I said and he went of to talk to Zamboni Guy, who I suppose must be Boyd. I tested the ice, but my boots had a decent grip so I could walk normally over to where Scott pointed. By gods, I could actually see nail polish chips from where she tried to claw through the ice. Other than that, nothing. I knelt down, not paying attention to the hushed conversation Scott had, and put my hand on the spot the claw marks centered around. Nothing. Don't know what I expected to be honest, some sort of – was that a petal?

A single, purple blue petal lay a few feet away, so out of place I had to look twice to confirm it really was there. I picked it up and twirled it between my fingers. Monkshood. _Wolf's bane_.

* * *

><p><em>AN: _And the plot thickens! Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed and followed this story so far - you inspire me to push on and finish this. There's still a lot to come and I'm already in a dilemma if I want to finish this off at the season finale and make a sequel or if I just want to push on here.

As always, **_PLEASE REVIEW! _**_Lots of love to you guys !  
><em>


	9. Fly

_Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to Teen Wolf nor its characters. This piece of fiction is created purely out of love for the show and no profit will be made._

**An Ye Harm None**

**Chapter 9 - Fly**

"That really hurts, Scott." The voice sent a chill down my spine completely unrelated to the ice rink temperature. I turned around. Boyd was still on his machine and Scott turned away to look at Derek and his two watchdogs sauntering behind him. Ugh, Isaac. I pocketed the petal and disregarded whatever Scott said I went up to stand behind him, close to the Zamboni machine.

"I mean, if you're going to review me, at least take a consensus," Derek continued and gestured towards the female werewolf behind him. Gods, could they smirk any harder? "Erica, how's life been for you since we met?"

She twirled her blonde locks between her fingers, like she gave his question some thought. "Hm," she said. "In a word…_transformative!_" She smiled and then opened her mouth to roar, fangs bared and all. I guess it's not just her breasts that grew in size then.

"Cassie, get out of here," Scott hissed to me, but my eyes were fixed on Derek's little helpers. How did I ever find any of them attractive? Both Derek and Isaac looked like jerks now, with their matching leather jackets and cocky smirks.

"No, I'm not leaving you," I said back and then turned to Boyd. "Cassie."

"Boyd," he said back in a hesitant voice. His gaze flickered from us to Derek and his pack. I mimicked him, raising my eyebrow as a challenge to Derek.

"Isaac?" Derek ignored me in favor of hearing Gravedigger Boy's opinion.

"Well, I'm a little bummed about being a fugitive," Isaac said with a smug cock of the head. "But other than that, I'm great."

"Is anyone going to say anything not completely cliché?" I couldn't keep my mouth shut. This was ridiculous. Erica growled a warning my way and I rolled my eyes pointedly. "Guess not."

"They're not the only ones who get this opportunity," Derek said, addressing Boyd. His eyes moved to me. "Think about it, Cassie. No more living in your cousin's shadow, a new family – you wouldn't have to work at the diner to get by."

"Wait, what? Excuse me, I'm not living in anyone's – _excuse me_?" I raised my eyebrows in incredulity, not believing this guy's nerve. "That's what you think? That I'm – and you think you can – by gods, you are not a very clever guy, are you?"

Derek's relaxed smile disappeared, but I didn't keep my mouth shut. "Sorry, but undergoing Derek's Ultimate Slut-Transformation is not really an option for me," I snapped and Scott put his arm out so I wouldn't walk right up to Mr. Alpha to give him a further piece of my mind. Erica snarled again, eyes glowing yellow as before. "Think for a second, Derek Hale. I'm Lydia's cousin in more than name and if your crazy uncle couldn't turn her, do you really think you stand a chance with _me_?"

I backed down by Scott's insistence, and crossed my arms. _Keep your cool, Cassie, don't let your mouth run too much now. _Did he honestly think that I wanted to become a werewolf? For love of all good, I wasn't even unhappy. I had a family, I had friends, I had no need to draw explicit attention to my tits.

"Cassie, get out. Now!" Scott tried again and I shook my head, leaning against the Zamboni machine, not letting my eyes waver. Isaac, that smug bastard, gave me a smile and my eyes narrowed. My heartbeat was dead steady. Not scared, pissed off. _Listen to that, you stupid werewolf-boy._

"Dogs chase when you run," I said to wipe the smile of Isaac's face.

Scott sighed. "Okay, hold on," he told the Pack Trio. "This isn't exactly a fair fight."

He was right. Despite my brave words, I would be useless in physical combat and I wasn't even sure which side Boyd was on. I don't think Boyd was sure which side Boyd was on.

"Then go home, Scott," Derek said lightly with a shrug, smiling so you could just barely see his fangs. He made a turn with his head and his freshly turned werewolves smiled and started to move towards us. Okay, remember how I said I wasn't scared? Yeah, I was a little scared now.

Scott grunted and smashed his fist down in the ice. It cracked, and now he had claws instead of fingernails. Oh boy, that would be my first demonstration to werewolf strength. Standing behind Scott, all I could see was his now pointed ears and increased physique, but I suppose he went full wolf.

He looked up at the approaching teenagers and growled, "I meant fair for them." He roared, ten times more impressive than Erica. It was a challenge, it was 'Come get me!' in werewolf tongue.

"We're back to clichés," I mumbled, pressing myself further against the Zamboni machine Boyd still sat on. Scott seemed to think he could handle it, and I was more than happy to let him.

Isaac attacked first, throwing himself straight at Scott. Scott used his gained momentum to dodge Isaac, grab hold of him and continue the movement so Isaac smashed into the see-through fence surrounding the brink. Erica tried to be clever, attack him when distracted, but Scott ducked. He used his position to kick Erica up into her jaw, sending her crashing into the machine. I inched further away from the fight. If I was in their position, I would take advantage of his defenseless human friend and take me hostage, so thank gods they weren't that smart. Or maybe Derek told them not to?

Derek stood calmly on the sideline, watching the spectacle, almost pleased with something. Boyd on the other hand looked nervous and I hope he reconsidered the entire decision to join Derek's pack. The way the Alpha watched the show one could speculate that he had some pretty dark, sadistic streaks.

Isaac distracted Scott with a macho challenge, grunting like boars.

"Scott, watch out!" I cried, but too late – Erica used her elbow to hit him in the back and my world exploded as she used her fist on me. That girl packed a punch!

I sailed through the air – chin first – and fell onto the ice, barely registering gravity by now. You remember being a child and spinning around and around until you fell down, so dizzy your feet disregarded up and down? That's what it felt like now – I always thought cartoons were exaggerating, but I really could see three Scotts fighting at least ten attackers now.

"Owww…" I moaned, but had no chance of moving my head. The ice numbed down the ringing pain, but only barely.

I tried to keep my consciousness, but had trouble following the fight. Isaac's wolfed out face landed in my field of vision and he looked right into my eyes before they rolled back. He was out. Did that mean Scott won?

Scott's rough voice shouted something, but trying to understand words made me want to throw up. Isaac's face disappeared as Scott sent him sailing on the ice, back to his daddy. No, wait, pack daddy. Daddy Derek. With tremendous effort, I managed to grab hold of the front part of the ice-thingy-machine and pull myself up.

Scott was alone on the ice now, claws still out, waiting fresh challenge. Derek approached him with red eyes and another roar – an Alpha roar. Oh gods, I got it now, he was using Scott to make a point.

"N-no," I mumbled, staggering towards Scott to pull him back, but before I could reach him, Derek threw his head into Scott's face and I swear his nose cracked. I lunged forward, trying to grab Derek's arm as it lifted to attack. "Scott, he's just-"

I miscalculated. A handful of claws meant for Scott slashed through the air and didn't stop just because I got in the way.

"Cassie!" Scott roared, but turned his anger towards Derek, who had my blood on his hands.

I wanted to scream, but only got out gasps of pain as I staggered backwards. I wanted to clutch my agonizing side, but feared further pain so my hands were poised just above my skin, blood pouring out of my body. I wanted to –

_Fly. _

_The cool night air under my wings held me afloat as I scoured the forest borders for a meal. I preferred meat, but in times of desperation, insects or fish would do the trick. I had a high metabolism, had to hunt often. _

_There! Small scurrying movements near the base of a tree, only noticeable to my eyes. The scratching noises meant some sort of rodent, preferably mice and not weasels. I settled on a nearby branch, waiting for the food to leave the safety of its hole. My coloring helped me blend into the background and if I didn't move, it would never see me coming._

_As soon as the creature would come out in the open, I would glide down with sharp talons ready to tear into its flesh and…Wait, wait. What? I don't have talons, what on Earth am I – _

_"__Hoot," the noise escaped as I tried to talk and I felt the original owl mind despair, I might just have given away its position. _

_Oh gods, I was in the owl's mind. But where was I? My body, I mean. I needed to keep my thoughts separate from the owl's, their keen predatory minds were not used to existential questions. Besides, thinking about delicious, mice flesh only served as a further distraction. _

_The ice rink! Scott was fighting Derek's lapdogs and Derek…Derek slashed my entire stomach open with his fingers…talons…claws. Claws. And because of the pain, I reacted on instinct, thrusting my self out of my body so I wouldn't have to deal with the pain. And I landed in this owl, as luck would have it. Predatory animals were easier to steer – not control, never controlling – just gently nudge in the right direction. Guide their instinct for hunting mice into hunting werewolves for the time being. _

_My – no, the owl's eyesight was thousand times better than mine, especially in the dark and I easily found my way back to the ice rink. _

_"__Get her in the car, get her in the _car_!"_

_The owl's feather bristled; the growl came from an enemy, something to be feared. I soothed it gently with my thoughts, listening in on Scott and Derek's conversation. _

_"__Scott, I swear it was an accident!" This voice belonged to Derek. "She jumped in front of me!"_

_"__Guys, I can't find a pulse, we need to get her to the hospital," Boyd's voice said. _

_"__No, I know a better option," Scott said and as I drifted over them I saw him get inside my Honda, although the colors were off through the owl's eyes, and drive off. Derek barked orders at his underlings to get inside his car and sped off, following Scott. I memorized the distinct sound of my Honda and managed to follow them across town. The owl's sense of hearing allowed me to hear heartbeats as well and in Scott's car his went a mile a minute while my body's…didn't. My heart had stopped. _

_"__Hoot," I said instead of laughing when we arrived at the animal clinic. If only he knew. Scott, now human looking, carried my unmoving body inside and I struggled to keep the owl's instinct in check. Inside there were all sorts of enemies as well as foodstuff, everything from cats to hamsters. _

_"__Dr. Deaton!" Scott shouted from inside and minutes later, Derek and his pack arrived, although he ordered the rest of them to stay in the car. The voices inside blended to a pulp when they started talking and barking orders and threats at each other._

_"__Scott, what happened? Who is she?"_

_"__It was meant for you!" _

_"__Her heart's not beating, she can't still be alive!" Scott yelled. "It-"_

_"__Scott, listen!" an unknown voice ordered. _

**_Thump_**_. _

_I heard it so the wolves definitely heard it. A heartbeat. My heartbeat. Of course, Grandmother Blair told me about this. Man, I must have freaked them out._

_"__Smart girl," the unknown voice commented and gave instructions to both Scott and Derek to hold this and apply pressure there and because I couldn't see anything, I could only assume they were patching me up._

_I soared down lightly, suppressing the owl's natural instincts and landed on the hood of Derek's car. Maybe the talons scratched the paint a little, who knows. In the front passenger seat, Isaac stared out at me, completely in awe. His pummeling from Scott had already healed. _

_"__That is so cool," he whispered and now all three wolves leaned forwards to stare at me. The owl. They didn't actually know it's me. "I think that's a great horned one."_

**_Thump _**

_"__How is she still alive with a heartbeat this slow?" Scott's voice came from inside and I swerved my head to look in that direction. _

_"__She's clever," was the only answer he got. "Okay, I think that's it. Just have to wait for her to…wake up. You should leave, those who left my other...patient will be back soon."_

_"__Not until you tell me what she is," Derek threatened, but a few minutes later he stomped out the back door and I flew off his car. His red eyes followed me for a second as I settled in a tree, but he got in and drove away. _

_"__What are you doing?" Scott's voice, regular, calmer. _

_"__Giving her some anesthetic," the other voice came, louder than before. There was a squeak as someone opened a window. That was my cue. The owl's eyes were adjusted to darkness, so it struggled with the surgery lamp inside as I landed it on the windowsill. _

_"__Eh, boss?" Scott eyed me warily, but the other man inside ushered him out._

_"__I think it's time we had that talk now." _

**_Thump. _**

_My body lay lifeless on a slab, the other one occupied by a guy who wouldn't just get up and walk away to put it like that. I let the owl sit tight on the windowsill, no need for her to get confused when I left. Okay, how did Grandma explain this? Close your eyes, now open them and open them again._

"Owwah," I groan immediately as I came back. The owl gave a last _hoot_ before I heard feathers fluttering and it left. For several, long minutes I didn't move, just let the painkillers kick in. I jumped in front of an Alpha to save a werewolf with healing powers. Smart move, Cass.

And then I successfully made the jump into another being. Hah. That was my second time, and this time I didn't even think about it, didn't spend hours meditating first. I wished I could tell someone, someone who would understand the sheer awesomeness of it, even calling my sister was tempting right now. Tempting, but unwise.

The veterinarian had put my shirt back down after stitching me up, but now I lifted it to get a look. I grimaced. It wasn't that bad, just a tight bandage and some stitches that would hurt like hell tomorrow. But I didn't lose much blood.

Unlike that guy. My companion in the room was of the dead sort, with deep slashes up and down his torso. He looked to be just a few years older than me, but I guess he wouldn't age any more. I thought about Derek's sharp claws. Did a werewolf do that to him?

I jumped as Scott and a brown-skinned man came through the door.

"They'll be coming back soon, I need you to take her out of here. Close the window, will you?" he said to Scott before turning to me. He was not smiling. "Hello, Cassie. I'm Dr. Deaton, Scott's boss. How are you feeling?"

He knows. And he wasn't happy about it.

"G-good," I stuttered, taken back by the intensity of his gaze. He was way more than Scott's boss. "Sore."

He nodded, like he expected that answer. Scott's head turned to the side and we all heard a car pull up. Dr. Deaton's face grew grim. "They're back. You need to get out of here."

My head swam from the drugs, and I let Scott support me to get me through the back door. He stopped there, giving me a look to stay silent. I obliged, and let his strong arms hold me against his chest so I didn't spend too much energy. He listened to something on the other side and whatever it was, now was not the time to ask. The anesthetic took away the edge of the pain, but the dull, consistent ache remained. I hope there was a yarrow patch in the garden at the House.

"We should call Stiles," I mumbled.

"Shh, shh," Scott soothed, still listening intently. He covered my mouth gently with his hand.

"Maybe I can mmrmr mmnrrh," I tried talking through his hand and he shushed me again. It wasn't until we heard cars drive off he practically carried me to the car and put me lying down in the back seat.

"Derek's a real jerk," I mumbled, head lolling around with the turns of the car. Scott laughed.

"Just relax, Cassie. I'm taking you to the Stilinski house."

"I really like Sheriff Stilinski. I wish I had a dad like that. I wish I had a dad." My eyelids were heavy, really heavy. Maybe I should just close them and…

Sleep.

* * *

><p>"Derek did this? That's it, I'm going to give him a long overdue <em>punch<em> in the face."

"Yeah, but that's not the weird part."

Scott and Stiles were nearby, but their voices muffled, as through a door. It was really dark in here.

"Really, the Alpha werewolf gutting Lydia's unknown cousin isn't the weird part here? Wow, why do I have a feeling I'm gonna freak out? Don't make that face, Scott, it makes me freak out."

"Listen, um, right after Derek hit her, she sort of…I don't know, froze. I heard her heartbeat come to a full stop. And she didn't collapse; she fell over, stiff as a board. Stiles, we had to turn her vertical to get her through the door."

"Maybe she went into shock and-"

"Stiles, listen to me. She had a heartbeat with several minutes in between, I couldn't even hear her breathing, and then after Deaton-"

"The apparent werewolf-expert."

"The apparent werewolf-expert, yes. After we left the room to talk, she's almost back to normal when we get back. Something seriously weird is going on, Stiles."

"Do you think she knows anything about the attacks? You don't think she's responsible, do you? Because I saw her reaction when Isaac attacked that Argent-guy, she did not have the look of someone who expected werewolves to exist."

"I don't – I don't know, Stiles. Maybe she'll tell us when she wakes up, in the meantime, I want both of you to stay away from Derek and his _pack_."

"Did you not just hear me telling you about the face-punch I got planned for him? It's kinda hard-"

"I'm serious! This just proves that he's as much of a threat as the Argents and…that other thing." A phone rang. "Man, it's my mom. I got to get home, you know what you're gonna tell your dad?"

"Yeah, he's concerned for her anyway so if I tell…" Their voices drifted away, probably down the stairs. I needed to figure out what to tell them. I wanted them to trust me. After tonight, I definitely trusted them. Good boys.

I drifted off.

* * *

><p>Next time I wake, it's dead silent. My eyes feel swollen and the painkillers are starting to wear off. Why did I wake up? I'm so tired. I don't want to get out of this bed ever again.<p>

"Cassie? Are you awake?"

I didn't even think to be afraid, not now. My stomach hurt so much, what could they possibly do? Who was that anyway? I squinted my eyes, trying to make blurry shapes become clear. I felt the urge to fumble at the nightstand for glasses I didn't wear or need.

"Isaac?" I mumbled, a bit louder than planned because Isaac shushed me. He crouched down next to the bed. "Isaac. Lahey. Number fourteen. Gravedigger Boy. Blue Eyes." I listed up every nickname I had for him and he tried to suppress a smile. "Stupid werewolf jerk," I finished and his mouth settled in a tight line instead.

The painkillers had me hallucinating, okay. I could deal. Deal with this dealio, yup. At least it was Isaac, my brain would be seriously twisted if a half-naked Derek showed up now. "Your boss is a dick," I mumbled, trying to sit up, but failed. Hallucination-Isaac shrugged. "He made me go flying."

At this, his eyebrows furrowed. "Fly – What are you talking about? Cassie?"

"Why are you here, Blue Eye-sac?" I snorted at my own joke. "Don't wolves sleep in piles? Did Boyd steal your spot in the pile?"

Isaac exhaled, looking down on his hands. "At the ice rink…Y-your heart stopped beating. I thought Derek killed you."

"He tried," I pointed out, but couldn't get my hand unstuck from the covers to actually point. Isaac gave me a soft smile I could barely discern from my closing eyes.

"Let's just say I like it better when I can hear your heartbeat. See you around, Red."

I blink and he's gone. "Good night, Fourteen."

* * *

><p>"Hey there, buddy," Stiles said when I managed to open my eyes. Sunlight streamed through the curtains and my head felt like someone smashed it into a wall, repeatedly. "How you feeling?"<p>

"Rough around the edges," I tried to say with a sore, groggy voice. I watched as Stiles put a tray on the nightstand and then sat on the bed, careful not to cause me any discomfort. "'s that br'kfast?"

He nodded several times. "Yup, porridge. Help you get your strength back without requiring to much energy to eat. Mom used to make it when I was sick," his gaze immediately flickered elsewhere, "and I suppose big movements aren't exactly on your list of favorite activities today."

"What day is it?" I asked, and struggled to get up in a sitting position. Stiles ended up helping me, holding me up long enough to sneak an extra pillow behind my back.

"Saturday," Stiles answered as I started on my porridge. "I need to get to a mechanic soon, _someone_ messed up my car pretty good."

I squinted my eyes and saw a purple bruise covering a good part of his forehead. "What happened?" I asked between mouthfuls. My memories were fuzzy, but I was positive Stiles hadn't been at the ice rink.

"Erica," Stiles said with a roll of his eyes. My fingers drifted to my sore jaw and winced at its swollenness.

"Yeah, me too," I said, but already felt out of breath. "Does the Sheriff know I'm here?"

"Yeah, about that, um…" Stiles shifted a bit, clearly looking for the right words to say.

"What'd you tell him? Stiles? " As far as I knew, the Sheriff was completely in the blind to the paranormal activity running around in Beacon Hills, so what embarrassing lie did Stiles feed the Sheriff to justify my presence?

"Let's just say you two are probably going to have a talk about the dangers of underage drinking," Stiles said, looking at the wall instead of me.

"Stiles! I don't even - I've tasted alcohol _once_ in my life!"

"Well, after Dad's speech, believe me, you want to get drunk right away." Stiles fidgeted, but I was too tired to even think of reprimanding him. He had to tell him something.

"Does he know about…" I gave a pointed look to my abdomen.

"He think you broke a few ribs, falling down some stairs, drunk, in high heels."

"That's ridiculous, I would nev-"

A door slammed downstairs and the Sheriff's voice came, "It's just me."

"And that's my cue!" Stiles jumped up, grabbed the empty porridge bowl and was halfway through the door.

"Wait, I'm coming with you," I said, renewing my efforts into getting my limbs to cooperate.

"Um, I think not. Stay here, rest, heal, sleep, whatever you need. And next time Scott tells you to get out, you-"

"It's not like you would have been any more help," I countered, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. Stiles looked shocked.

"One, I play lacrosse, okay? Our physique is very different, in fact, opposite is a word I might use here. And two, I would never, ever, _ever_ jump in front of a _healing werewolf_ to save him from five minutes of agony. And three, you're not coming with me."

"Because it went so well the last time you went alone? I guess Erica knocked out a bit more than we thought, because…"

We bickered back and forth until the Sheriff cleared his throat in the doorway. Stiles raised his eyebrows to me in a final challenge, but with his dad there, there wasn't much I could say. He said goodbye to us both and left.

The Sheriff waited until the door slammed in a Stiles-kind-of-way and then he sighed, giving me a pitying look. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. For Mother's sake, Stiles.

"Cassie."

"Sheriff."

"How are you feeling? Pretty sore, I would guess. And your head?"

That was the start of a long, winded lecture about alcohol, vulnerable girls and his many experiences seeing girls falling apart after a bad episode. In conclusion, alcohol was the work of the devil and only acceptable in small, tiny doses and not until you were old enough to handle it – somewhere around thirty, I got the impression of – and he hoped I learned my lesson and so help him god, should he ever catch me drinking illegally again.

The sun was setting when he finished of, but only because his phone rang. "Sheriff Stilinski," he said, going outside in the hallway. There was a bit of confused conversation before he burst out, "_My son? _Stiles! Hang on, I'm on my way."

It felt like Erica took another go at my face, because I couldn't breathe or think. Something happened. Stiles went alone and something happened to him! Oh Mother, please let him be all right.

"Cassie, I got to go, there's been an accident at the auto shop," the Sheriff said as he hastily adjusted his cuffs.

"Stiles, I heard – is he – will he –" I didn't manage to get a complete sentence out, but the Sheriff nodded courtly.

"Don't worry, he's just a witness," he said and gave me a nod before leaving. I was alone in their house now. After a painful search through my jacket someone had folded and left on the dresser, I found my phone and texted Scott:

'Stiles in trouble. Armor Tire. Take my car.'

* * *

><p><em>AN: _So, if you were wondering if Cassie had any 'real' powers, this is the first example that yes, she does. I hope you don't think that the whole Cassie jumping in to save Scott was too Mary-Sue, because I tried to emphasize how woozy she was after Erica's punch and she just accidentally saved Scott. Believe me, Cassie's not the heroic kind.

As always, I really appreciate feedback! If you think my portrayal's off or I made some typos or if you think my plot needs more _oomph_ to be interesting...or if you like it the way it is.

My main focus with this story is to actually finish it (I've only managed to finish _one_ writing project that wasn't for school before...hehe), but that doesn't mean I'll prioritize quantity over quality - it just means I won't spend three years perfecting a plot outline so it's perfect, because guess what? Then I'll never write it.

(Wow, this is a long A/N...)Just one more thing, I changed the rating from M to T, because I try to keep the swearing light, even if I have one f-bomb planned in a future chapter. It _may_ go up again if there's a sudden need for scenes of sexual nature, but I'll let you know in that case! Alright, author _out!_

**Please review, I'll give you kisses. **


	10. Tongues

_Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to Teen Wolf nor its characters. This piece of fiction is created purely out of love for the show and no profit will be made._

**An Ye Harm None**

**Chapter 10 – Tongues**

Stiles spent the whole Sunday sulking, while Sheriff Stilinski gave me a meaningful look every time I stretched or bent and winced in pain. The Sheriff interpreted Stiles' bad mood as a consequence of the jeep being impounded, but _Scott_ told me the Reptile Monster had been at the garage. He didn't know anything else, just told me to ask Stiles. When the Sheriff left for his evening shift, I followed Stiles up to his room.

I tried not to gawk too much – it was the first time I was in a boy's room after all – but noted the blue walls, myriad of posters on them and a whole collection of knickknacks ranging from a dusty skateboard to baseball trophies.

"I already told Scott, it looked…reptilian almost," Stiles said in a tired voice, slumping down in his computer chair. I needed to support myself on the armrests to lower my body down into a normal chair close to his bed. "It looked like it recognized me."

"Oww – but it didn't attack?" I asked and winced when I tried to adjust my position. "It was clearly after the mechanic?"

"Not that I blame him, he was a total jerk," Stiles said, although not a trace of humor on his face. "No, it just…screeched or hissed or whatever, before it took off. Man, I couldn't even move."

"What? Why?" My brows furrowed, I'd seen Stiles in a life-threatening situation before, he didn't freeze up.

"I don't know, my whole body just…" he made some weird notions with his arms. "Hang on, the door handles…I touched the door handles and then my hands got all spazzy."

I refrained from pointing out he was always spazzy, but watched as he got up and started pacing. "And the mechanic dropped too, but that was after he got that cut on his neck," Stiles continued, talking more to himself than me.

"Wait, the door handles? What about them?"

"There was this sticky goo on them, almost like…clear snot or something, I don't know."

Ew.

"What if the thing really is like a snake? It uses venom to paralyze its victims?" Stiles started to flip in a book with bright colored snakes on the cover. He found the page he looked for and gave me the book. "Like the death adder." The page showed a brown colored snake with an open jaw.

"Says here it's native to Australia," I read out loud, but Stiles scoffed. "But it didn't bite him, just cut him in the neck? With its claws or…?"

"I don't know, it happened fast and I was on the floor trying to call 911. But the goo had to come from that thing," he pondered on this a second and then shuddered. "Uugh, I got my hands full of monster goo. Now I hope it was saliva and not…something else."

"Maybe it's like a werewolf, only it turns into a snake. Like, a were-snake," I mused and Stiles gave me a blank look. "What? It's not impossible. You said yourself it looked like someone you knew. It's not like you hang out regularly with a bunch of humanoid reptiles!"

"I don't get why if went after the mechanic though." He went to his computer and started searching for the victim's name. "I don't actually see any resemblance between Isaac's dad and this guy, not like the thing has a specific type obviously."

"So far we have three victims," I said and groaned as I forced my way out of the chair. "Mr. Lahey, the Argent guy and the mechanic. Wish we knew the Argent guy's name, you think we could ask Allison?"

"Ph-yeah, I'm not sure involving her anymore than necessary is our best course of action," Stile said, not looking away from the screen.

I halted. "You don't trust her?"

"Her? Maybe. Her family? Not a chance. I did tell you how she tried to hit Scott with her bow before? Or how her aunt burned down a house full of people?" Stiles hit the keyboard with harsh strokes. "Right now, I'm not even sure I trust you. When are you gonna tell us what happened at the ice rink? Not only when Lydia had her meltdown, but when Derek slashed you open and you just…stopped functioning?" He turned around in his chair to pierce me with a suspicious look.

I swallowed. "I'm not sure what happened," I said, slowly – it was not a direct lie. "One minute I'm bleeding through my shirt – which I'm pretty sure I want Derek to replace, by the way – and the next I'm at the animal clinic with this alleged Dr. Deaton patching me up." No lies. Now, change the subject. "I saw the Reptile's second victim though, even if I was a little woozy. The Argents brought him there for Dr. Deaton's opinion, so that mean they'll be looking after it too."

"Good, maybe they can take it out," Stiles said honestly, still not looking away from me. I blinked several times.

"But what if it's like with Scott? Like it doesn't know what it's doing or being forced to by some Alpha? It could happen, right?" I tried to gesture, but flinched when it pulled on my stitches. "We need to help it, stop it from killing more people, but not kill it."

"It, Cassie? Or her?" Stiles eyes fluctuated to my shirt-covered bandages and I stepped back in pure surprise. "I'm not entirely convinced you're not completely healed up under there."

"For Frigg's sake, are you serious? You think _I _attacked the – I was here the whole time, with your _dad_, the Sheriff, having the most awkward conversation of my _life_ about what can happen when girls' get their drinks spiked! Ow!" _Stop moving your arms, Cassie! Argh_. "And if you're so worried about me healing, then you can drive me to the animal clinic to change the bandages. You want to see me without my shirt on, let's go!"

* * *

><p>We didn't look at each other the entire way there, both preferring to glare out of the front window like it personally offended us. Scott delivered the message earlier, that I needed to change the bandages, and truth be told, I wasn't looking forward to it. Not only did I have a severely low pain threshold, but also Scott's boss knew a lot more than he let on. And I suspected he wanted to ask me some questions.<p>

Scott wasn't there – probably out with Allison, that little sneak – but Dr. Deaton met us in the door. Stiles alternated his suspicious glances between the veterinarian and me, but kept his mouth shut.

"How are you feeling? Get some rest?" Dr. Deaton asked after he made me hold my shirt up so he could inspect the damage. Stiles whistled awkwardly and I saw him turn away. Baring my abdomen like this didn't bother me as much as I thought it would, but to be fair, the bandages covered up most of it anyway. Deaton didn't make me take of my shirt, so my more private areas were covered.

"I slept okay," I said, my thoughts momentarily distracted by my dream of Isaac. _Silly girl_. My face contorted into a grimace when he started to unwrap the dressings. I tried to meet Stiles' gaze, although the boy looked a bit nauseated now. Serves him right for suspecting me to be the Reptile.

"Good. Well, it seems to be okay, no infection. It's not too deep, but the stitches will have to stay in another week I'm afraid." He gently cleaned of the crust, and I averted my gaze. "Are you comfortable letting me handle it or would you rather…go to a hospital?" He set his eyes on mine and I shrugged carefully.

"I'd rather not go to the hospital," I answered, more for Scott's sake than mine. Well, of course, because of my age the doctors would have to contact my next of kin and I doubt they could save me from Sabrina if she found out I jumped right onto a set of werewolf claws.

"I suppose your family must've been very concerned," Dr. Deaton said gently, wrapping a new set of nonstick bandages around my midsection. Aha, well, at least he was discreet about it.

"My family doesn't know," I said slowly, glancing over at Stiles to see if he got the meaning of this conversation. He was still turned away, reading the posters on neutering with great intent. "They're not here."

Dr. Deaton's face straightened completely before he smiled. "Good."

I wanted to ask who the hell he was or how he knew about my family, but couldn't when Stiles was there. But if Scott trusted him…

"Remember, keep the bandage dry and call me right away if you notice any color change or excessive bleeding, any of that sort." He lowered the tone of his voice. "I would recommend sage as a poultice and perhaps a feverfew tea for the pain."

"I was thinking yarrow," I said before I could help myself. He smiled even wider.

"Clever girl."

* * *

><p>I asked Stiles to take me to Scott's so I could get my car, but he scoffed and asked if I really thought he would let me drive anywhere on my own right now. And because I needed a car to get to school in the morning, I was stuck in the Sunflower Room another night. The Sheriff called and asked if we'd join him for dinner at the Zig Zag on his break. I felt a little weird being there after just that one first shift, but Janet was working and apparently knew the Sheriff too because the drinks were on the house. Stiles obliged his father to eat curly fries just this once, and it was actually kind of fun. It felt like a normal family dinner, only I wasn't part of their family and they had lost their Mrs. Stilinski.<p>

That thought dulled my initial pleasure at this outing. They both only had each other, and I was interfering. Celina told me to know my place and truth was I didn't. When you grow up with family values implanted on your very soul, it would only be natural that I got confused when those family values differed from mine. It wasn't too late, I could probably still go back and only get a smack on my fingers. But Lydia was family too.

And I'd never felt so alive as I did after coming here. I smiled when Stiles made a jab at the Sheriff regarding chubby policemen, and the Sheriff only responded with stealing some of Stiles' onion wings. I couldn't forget my old ways, no. And I would not become a liability like that again. Next time we were up against those wolves, they wouldn't know what hit them.

A fry hit me in the forehead. "The he…heck!" I yelped and Stiles nearly fell of the chair laughing. I gaped at the Sheriff and he at least had the decency to hide his amusement behind his drink. I grabbed the rest of Stiles' fries in my fist and stuffed them in my mouth and chewed them while Stiles gaped. "Mot fo fommy mow?"

The Sheriff laughed so soda came out of his nose.

* * *

><p>"What's with the gloves?" I asked Lydia as we walked into the girls' bathroom after class so she could check her makeup. Honestly, she's like a parakeet. She paused uncapping her lipstick and gave the empty bathroom an onceover. Slowly, without looking at me, she took off the pink gloves I'd never seen her wear before.<p>

"Gaia's blessing, Lydia? What happened?" I rushed forward to inspect her damaged knuckles. Someone patched her up, but I could still see how torn they were. "Did you punch through a window or something?"

She rolled her eyes at me and said, "If I tell you, will you promise not to make a big deal? Mom's already making me see Ms. Morrell for 'counseling' and I really can't take any more drama around this, not with the big game tonight."

"There's a game tonight?" I asked by mistake and she shook her head at me in despair. "Of course, that's tonight, I knew that – never mind, I'll try not to make a big deal, just tell me."

"I…sleepwalked during the night and ran my hand into my mirror by accident," she said and I opened my mouth to say something, "_By accident_, Cassie. Don't read anything into it."

"You punched a mirror? In your sleep?"

"Yes, and now I have to pay for dry cleaning my covers. Egyptian cotton, not exactly something you throw into the machine," she said irritably and snatched her hand back, putting her gloves on impatiently. "We're late for lunch."

"J-just hold on, Lyds. Did you tell anyone about this? What did the counselor say?" I asked, physically blocking her from leaving. She puckered her lips together and I blew air out my nose. "You didn't tell anyone? Lydia!"

"You promised you wouldn't make a big deal, remember. I'm not crazy. I'm not." She pushed me away and sashayed out into the hall.

"I never said you were, Lydia. But, wait, listen to me!" I took hold of her arm and made her look at me. "You need to tell someone, even if it's just me. You're allowed to act out after what's happened, I'm sure it's perfectly normal, but you can't keep things like this a secret."

_Can't keep secrets? And the Hypocrite Award of the Year goes to…?_

"Well, now I'm feeling all better," she said in a dangerous tone, "now that I got your _permission_."

She left me standing on top of the stairs. I suppose that could have gone slightly better. It worried me; she worried me. I spent the whole night twisting and turning in the bed at the Stilinskis, and when I finally fell asleep I dreamt of Lydia again. Only this time she didn't lie on the lacrosse field, rather than in a field of monkshood flowers. And right before I wake up, she opens her eyes and says "_Holocaustum autem hoc homine_."

The burnt man.

How did that fit in? Who was the burnt man? I could list plenty of burnt women in our family history, but men? The only thing I could think about was the Hale-fire and the key to that story slashed my stomach open two days ago. No, crawling to Derek Hale with mysterious questions about his family tragedy didn't seem like an option right now.

"Woops, sorry!" Stiles said as he barged through the crowd. He grabbed hold of me and forced me into a run. "Cassie, come on!"

"Stiles? What's going on?"

"Explain – later," he panted and dragged me into the courtyard over to Allison, who sat alone by a table. Why was I missing lunch for this?

"Where…does he…keep it?" Stiles managed to say between pants and I was left standing there like a human question mark.

"I don't know, I only saw it once. It has to be his office, I guess," Allison said, her eyes darting over to me once or twice.

Stiles took a short breath. "Okay. No! You stay!" he shouted to me as I made a move to follow him, but I heeded his words and watched him sprint back into the school.

"W-what's going on? What has to be in whose office?" I asked Allison, a bit uneasily. Every encounter with her yet had been under the watchful eyes of Lydia and frankly, I didn't trust her all that well because of her aunt. Although, if people were to judge _me_ based on my aunts I suppose I wouldn't come out looking too good either.

She glanced around her, just as Lydia had earlier and whispered, "There's this book my grandfather got. A bestial – a besti – like a register for everything my family's discovered over the years. Every creature. We think that thing we saw at Isaac's house might be in it."

"A bestiary?" I asked and watched her eyebrows rise.

"Yeah, that's what Stiles called it."

My phone rang and I showed Allison the screen. Stiles.

"Hello?" I asked, still unsure of what the hell's going on.

First I heard a large gulp of air being drawn. "_Ask…her…if_," Stiles took a break to catch his breath. "_Ask her if she can get the book?"_

"Can you get the book? Stiles wants to know," I asked Allison and she twisted her lips.

"Not without his keys," she said and I forwarded the message to Stiles. I heard him talk to someone, Scott I guess, in the background.

"_Okay, we need to come up with a plan. Is he going to be at the game tonight_?"

For the next minutes, Stiles and I worked as messengers between the two star struck lovers and as a joint effort we came up with a plan to steal the principal's keys and break into his office during the game.

"But Stiles," I said, still on the phone with him. "Aren't you supposed to be playing in the game?"

"_Hah! Yeah, suuure. No, Cassie, I'm pretty much benched the entire season," _was his sarcastic reply.

"Come on, how could I possibly know that? So far I've seen _one_ practice and this is the first game since I moved here," I reminded him.

"_Well, you won't see this one either. I need back up, you in?"_

I sighed, wondering how much trouble this would get me into. "Yeah, I'm in."

* * *

><p>"Oooooh!" the entire crowd sympathized with the poor player from Beacon who just got earthed by number 42 of the other team. I fiddled with my phone, fingers clumsy because of the cold weather and texted Lydia <em>again<em>. Where was that girl? We were supposed to meet at the game and watch our team kick some serious ass, but I hadn't heard from her since.

Gods, it was freezing out here. I thought California was supposed to be hot and sunny, not this subzero temperature. I was leaning against the bleachers, behind Allison and the principal. Luckily, she was the one who actually had to _steal_ the keys; I would just be the in-between guy. I guess Scott and Stiles didn't want any more attention drawn to them.

Success! She got the coat, now all we needed was the keys. Meanwhile, our undefeated team took a real beating out there. But I kept my focus on her hands and there – she got the keys. I sauntered over casually, taking the keys from her and then handed them to Stiles on the bench.

"Hey, coach?" I asked to distract him while Stiles snuck away. "We're the red players, right?"

"Not now, Blair! Damn it!" he yelled as Danny was brought over to us on a stretcher. "TIME OUT!"

Keeping my distance, I retreated. Maybe I could actually watch the game now; I didn't get why Scott didn't use his powers to kick some serious –

"Where's Stilinski? Where is _Stilinski_?" Coach howled, looking frantically for his missing player.

"Err, I think he had to use the restroom, coa-"

"For Christ's sake!" he spat and surveyed the bleachers of people watching the game. "You! You! You play lacrosse?"

He pointed at…Boyd? He sat with Erica, clearly enjoying the show, but lit up when the moment of opportunity presented itself. Are you kidding me? He wanted to put a werewolf-newbie into a game of _lacrosse?_ I managed not to stick my tongue out to Erica, that crazy powerpunch bitch, but could do nothing but watch as Coach Finstock put Boyd in the game.

Phone buzz. I picked it out of my coat and saw a text from Scott. 'Lydia in car, crying. Parking lot. Go.'

I sent a worried look to Allison, who returned it with one of her own. Still, if Lydia was upset, there's bound to be a reason. Careful not to draw attention to myself, I walked nearly backwards away from the bleachers, but turned it into a sprint to get to the parking lot.

Where was she? I knew where she parked this morning, it was right…here. My steps echoed in the empty parking lot and there was a dry spot where Lydia's car stood earlier. I got my phone out and immediately dialed Stiles.

"Stiles, where is she? I'm in the parking lot and-"

"_CASSIE, I'M AT THE POOL AND THEY_-"

A crushing sound and the call ended in a drawn out beep. I called him back, but only got the notice that the phone was unattainable at this moment. The hell? He sounded freaked out, but wasn't he supposed to be in the principal's office? As I walked up the steps of the school, I called Lydia, but it only rang three times before I hit voicemail.

"Lydia? Please, Lyds, I know you're upset. Call me when you get this, you can talk to me. About _anything_."

Where the hell was the pool? Gods, I've never been there, shouldn't these things be signposted? "Argh!" I ran back to the lobby where the map hung and I cursed my inability to make sense of it. "Come on, come on. It's on the ground floor, third door from the right after the boys' locker room, yes!"

I ran the whole way there, calling Stiles, but got the same message as before. In the middle of finding Scott's number, I burst through the doors and –

"_Stiles_ - Gods above and beyoooond," I gawked and stepped back. The scaled creature got down on all fours to screech my way. The tail swung behind it as it approached me slowly. I backed away. "Gaia guide my path."

_Keep eye contact, keep eye contact_… Maybe it was like those tigers in India, who wouldn't attack when you looked into its eyes. Those were some seriously weird eyes, too. Yellow, slitted, definitely snakelike. I tried not to look at its teeth; it had a lot of those. Too many.

"Cassie? Cassie! Get out of here!" someone shouted, but the echoes distorted it and the creature turned its head towards the pool and screamed again. "Cassie, _run_!"

My phone slipped from my hands. I dodged its first tail-strike and did a half barrel roll to get the starter blocks between us. _Yeeeoww, that pulled on my stitches_. I cowered behind them, finally seeing Stiles and…_Derek_? Finally seeing them in the swimming pool, where Stiles struggled to keep Derek afloat. Derek couldn't swim or – oh no, he was paralyzed.

"Where'd it go?" Stiles said and turned around in the water. "Where is it? Do you see it? Cassie, don't move!"

"Make up your mind," I shouted, my voice torn with panic. What the hells was that thing? "Think, Cassie, think, think."

My first instinct was to call Scott and it disgusted me. When would I stop running to someone else with my problems? I needed to fix this, I needed to stop that thing trying to hurt someone else. I needed to-

"Cassie, behind you!" Derek shouted.

I turned slowly, my breath stuck in my throat. The thing was less than ten feet away from me. Its head cocked from side to side as it stalked closer on all fours. It didn't have a nose. I suppose it smelled with its tongue. Its behavior reminded me of when Scott first sniffed me, assessed me.

Taking a deep breath and ignoring the desperate shouts of the two in the pool, I leaned forward, effectively mimicking the creature's stance. _Keep eye contact, keep the eye contact…_ Think like the creature, act like the creature, _become _the creature.

I became a mirror, twisting my head when it did, moving my body the way it did. Animals communicated more or less solely by body language, and I needed to figure this one's out.

"CASSIE, WHAT THE HELL? CALL SCOTT!" Stiles' voice was hoarse from shouting, but I didn't listen. I needed to keep the Reptile's attention fixed on me.

Reptile opened its mouth and did a lower hiss than before, a bit more careful. It tested me, this was a standoff. I hesitated, because both Stiles and Derek would be able to see most of this, but in the end I opened my mouth and mimicked his hiss, in a slightly different tone. I tried to say 'I'm like you, I'm a friend' but that wasn't how the creature took it. It drew back, curling its ridged back up like an aggressive cat, and now it _bellowed_.

"Murderer," I whispered in human speech now. It definitely said murderer. I moved backwards on all four, while the creature screeched out the same meaning again. I scrambled away from it. "Derek! IT'S AFTER DEREK!"

It ignored me until I made a dash for my phone, swooping its clawed hands after me as a warning and I yelped. So it knew what a phone was. That was a comfort. _Not._ I moved slowly on my back, dragging myself towards a wall.

"You have to get in the water! It's afraid of water!" Stiles shouted and the creature turned to hiss in his direction.

"I can't," I shouted back from my relatively safe corner. "I got stitches!" Besides, it didn't look interested in attacking me –it was only after Derek. My eyes landed on Erica, knocked out cold. Okay, so collateral damage wasn't totally out of the question.

"Never mind your goddamn stitches, get in the pool!" Derek yelled angrily and it made the Reptile screech. It stalked along the edge of the pool, not letting the swimming pair out of its sight. It was only a brief comfort that it moved away from me, I saw how fast that thing could move.

Damn it, my phone was right there! If only we could call Scott. Never mind that I needed to fix my own problems. That thing was after Derek and clearly didn't have any plans on giving up any time soon.

Think! I made another scramble to get my phone, but the creature's face appeared right in front of me and bared all its fangs. I pushed myself back into the corner, my pulse moving erratically higher. What the hell, Derek? Where was the rest of your pack? Okay, I knew where Boyd was, but didn't Isaac get that specific skill to know that your Alpha is threading eight feet of water, paralyzed from the neck down?

An eternity passed where I tried to think of a way to replicate what I did the other day, when I made the jump from my mind to another. But that wasn't an animal, not like an owl, it was sentient. It knew what a phone was, it sure as hell looked like it recognized me.

"I don't think I can do this any longer," Stiles said over the gasps of breath coming from him and Derek. I saw that he eyed my phone, sitting on the pool-edge.

"Stiles?" I called, making the creature look briefly at me, before dismissing me as a threat." I'm gonna distract it, get the phone!"

"No, no, no! Don't even think about it!" Derek shouted, probably to Stiles and not me. Stiles dropped Derek under water.

I could do this! I knew I could!

I jumped forward, landing on all fours, again replicating the creature's exact position. I opened my mouth and I _screeched_. Just like it did earlier, and now the thing backed away a few inches. Twisting my spine to copy its prior movements, I did another warning call. The creature answered with a bellow that went straight for my primate instincts – every hair on my body rose.

Behind it, Stiles got the phone!

The creature didn't notice, but flicked its tail a few times my way. I had to resort to move my butt as the closest form of copy, but as long as I kept its attention on me, we were good. We did the warning calls back and forth, each getting louder than before and my throat felt parched. My physiology wasn't used to this.

Its tail quivered. It straightened out its back a bit. My blood froze. Are you kidding me? A soft hiss this time and it tilted its head to the side. That was a mating call. _Stiles, hurry_! I didn't dare lose eye contact with this thing, so all I saw was blurry shapes in the background. Looked like Stiles at least saved Derek from drowning.

"I can't stay up any longer," he said, swallowing water between words. "I need something to hold on to."

No, no, no! Stiles! I wanted to shout at him, tell him to stay put, but the second he started to move towards the starting blocks, the Reptile twisted its head to look in their direction. Damn it!

I did the same thing the Reptile did earlier, straightening my back, doing some twisting shoulder movements, and even a sound that resembled a purr more than a hiss. I displayed affection. I felt disgusting, but it was the only thing I could think of to keep its interest. Stiles and Derek moved out of my vision. Had he even got a hold of –

A roar. The werewolf kind. Reptile lost all interest in me, and he – because that was definitely a male reptile creature – turned its head to look at Scott, poised on a starting block and looking for a fight.

For Frigg's sake, don't wait so long next time!

The Reptile darted away, using both floor and walls, and jumped right at Scott. I relaxed my body and ran over to Stiles and Derek just as the Reptile used his tail to send Scott flying into the wall mirror. It would be okay, Scott healed easily, but I still cast a concerned look their way before I checked on Stiles. He breathed easily, thank you Mother.

A crash from above sounded as the Reptile jumped through the ceiling roof. Scott scared him off! Derek dragged himself up on a starting block, panting heavily, and Scott only looked confused.

"Are you okay? Stiles! Are you-"

"We are gonna have a long discussion about this later, Cassie. Later, when I'm not coughing up water from my lungs."

* * *

><p>Derek went to get Erica, with a last dark look my way and we left the scene. The locker rooms were deserted, so Stiles could change out of his wet tracksuit into a dry one and he emerged with his laptop under his arm.<p>

"So you're saying the bestiary is on this hard drive?" he asked Scott, holding up Gerard's keychain with a USB-stick on it. "Guess even werewolf hunters have to move with the times."

We left the school building, in case some power hungry janitor showed up and decided to call authorities and Stiles transferred all data to his laptop using the hood of my car as a table.

"Whoa," I said as he picked a few pages on random. That looked like a Bible from the Dark Ages. "So much for modern times."

"Is that even a language?" Stiles asked, moving further into the book.

"How are we supposed to figure out what this thing is?"

"It's called a kanima." We all jumped at Derek's voice as he and the bimbo approached. Do not get distracted by wet shirt abs. He looked at me. "Although I'm not sure what you're called."

Stiles looked annoyed. "You knew…the whole time," he stated.

"No. Only when it was confused by its own reflection."

"It doesn't know what it is," Scott said and I whistled.

"Wow, that explains a lot," I mumbled to myself and suddenly all eyes were on me. "Well, for me anyway, not for you guys."

"Please, elaborate," Derek said, sarcastically, fighting to keep his voice from a growl.

"Um…it got really confused when I mimicked it," I said lamely, but knew my heartbeat wouldn't skip from that.

"What the hell was that about?" Stiles burst out. "You _talked_ to it!"

"I copied it! That's what you're supposed to do with bears, right? Maintain eye contact and try to scare it off?"

"I don't know if you noticed, _but that was not a bear!" _Stiles shouted, eyes bugging out of his skull. "I heard you, you sounded just like it!"

"I have a really good ear for these things," I snapped, giving Derek glances in between. "I just tried to distract it o-or scare it off, because I didn't get the chance of getting in the water because _someone_ made me get stitches all over my stomach. Know what happen when you pull those stitches keeping your entrails inside? It's not pretty!"

Derek at least had the decency to look slightly ashamed at this, but soon returned to his trademark scowl.

"I am sick and tired of being a suspect here! I came here for _one _reason, not to get mixed into this lycanthropy bullshit! A-and I don't know if she's even called me back, because my phone is on the bottom of a frickin' swimming pool!" I drew my breath, calming my anger. "And FYI, Derek, if you ever insinuate that I should want to become a werewolf again, I will shove my foot so far up your a-"

"Oookay, I think you're done," Stiles intervened and pulled me behind him before I could finish my threat. "Walk it off, Cassie, walk it off." He let me take several deep breaths before he turned back to Derek. "So, what else do you know about this 'kanima'?"

I wrecked my brain, but I am positive I had never heard that word before.

Derek took his time before he answered, "Just stories, rumors."

Scott turned his concerned face away from me. "But it's like us?"

"It's a shape-shifter, yes," Derek said and shrugged. "But it's – it's not right. It's like a…"

"An abomination," Stiles finished. Derek gave a short nod and turned to walk away, followed on the heel by Erica.

"Derek!" Scott called out and they stopped. "We need to work together on this. Maybe even tell the Argents."

Derek looked disgusted and I sort of understood him. "You trust them?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Nobody trusts anyone!" Scott shouted, making me jump and pull closer to Stiles. "That's the problem. While we're here, arguing about who's on what side or who's doing what for this or that reason, there's something scarier, stronger and faster than any of us and it's killing people and we still don't even know anything about it!"

Derek snarled and walked off. "I know one thing," he called over his shoulder. "When I find it, I'm gonna kill it!"

And all I could think about was Lydia's pink gloves, covering up her torn knuckles, which she got from punching a mirror. _It doesn't know what it is, it doesn't know what it is…_

* * *

><p><em>AN: _Ten chapter anniversary! Yay. And I have officially more than 3,000 views for my story! How awesome is that? I think it's pretty darn awesome. I realise that this might be the Isaac-centric romance story with the slowest burn in history, but don't worry. We'll get there. Maybe.

...

So, guys, what do you think? I love-love feedback and encouragement and even the odd criticism, so please, go ahead. _And_ I was wondering if there would be any interest for the link the "soundtrack"of An Ye Harm None? I have a spotify playlist that's pretty much what kind of music I envision during the most important scenes of each chapter and I just wondered if anyone would like me to post the link? Well, just let me know!

**Please leave a review! It'll make me so so so happy!**


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